Door of Memory
by Phenyx
Summary: This is just a simple romance piece. Wont be much to it but I guarantee a happy ending. Takes place after IOTH. Someone is getting married and Jarod becomes reflective when a certain longlegged brunette comes to the festivities.Ch 14 is up. Done
1. Dawn

**Disclaimer: **The Pretender and its characters don't belong to me. But since those who do own them won't use them I'll just borrow them for a while. I refuse to let Jarod and those he loves stagnate, to wither and die.

**The Door of Memory**

Part 1 – By Phenyx

11/13/04

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "  
**Susan B. Anthony**_

**-**

Jarod folded his arms and leaned against the wooden post of the porch. He gazed out at the blackness around him. It was still too early to see the meadow that spread before the secluded farmhouse. With a patient sigh he listened to the night as it hovered on the edge of sunrise.

This was his favorite time of day, the darkness before the dawn. It was a poetic representation of what his life had once been. Growing up in the Centre, cut off from his family, Jarod had lived more than three decades in a darkness that had little to do with the actual absence of light. It had taken a lifetime of despair, pain and loneliness followed by years of fear, anger and stubborn determination before Jarod had found true illumination in his life.

But ultimately, he had found it.

The Island of Carthis had signaled the beginning of the end of Jarod's flight from the Centre. In his mind's eye, Jarod saw his frantic dash across the island, the anguished minutes he'd spent on the beach watching his mother disappear in the distance. His memories mercifully flashed over the remainder of his time spent on the isle. He had spent the last two years trying not to remember. Two years trying to forget the pain her rejection had caused.

Instead, Jarod thought of the weeks that followed his trip to Scotland. He had tracked his mother with the singled-minded ferocity of a predator chasing its prey. Pursuing her trail with a determined focus, it had never occurred to him that his intensity served as a defense mechanism. Jarod's obsession with his mother's whereabouts had effectively blocked out all other things, including the gut-wrenching final phone call he had shared with Miss Parker.

"_I hope you find your mother," _she had told Jarod sincerely. Barely a month later, he had.

Reuniting with his mother had started a domino effect in Jarod's life. It was as if overcoming that first, greatest obstacle had made those following it so much easier to tackle. Margaret Leaman possessed a great deal of incriminating evidence against the Centre, evidence that she had used to ensure her captive children's safety. Though the information she held had been enough to protect Jarod from an assassin's bullet, she had never figured out how to use it to actually free him.

Jarod's final simulation had done that job for her. It had taken him nearly a week to work through all the details but in the end, Jarod and his family were released from the Centre's clutches. Jarod had seen to it that the Centre was risking much more by pursuing him than it stood to lose by letting him go.

The victory had been bittersweet. Little by little, Jarod had managed to bring his family back together moving them all into this rambling house in a backwater town. But Jarod had not seen anyone from the Centre since making his final break. He kept in touch with Sydney of course. They spoke to each other in regular phone calls and emails were exchanged almost daily. But there had been no visits between them. Worse still, there had been no contact what so ever between Jarod and Miss Parker. The sad, weary conversation they had shared after Carthis had been the last time he had spoken to her.

Jarod still managed to keep well informed of Miss Parker's activities despite the lack of direct communication. He plied Sydney for information as often as he deemed appropriate. Ethan's addition to the equation some eighteen months ago had also served Jarod well in this area. It had gotten to the point where he didn't even need to ask his little brother how Parker was doing. Ethan readily volunteered the information his inner sense provided.

Jarod sighed and shifted his feet. The sky was just beginning to brighten on the eastern horizon. Darkness eased into a swirling combination of purple hues just above the distant trees.

Part of Jarod's mind registered the coolness of the air around him. It wasn't cold, per se. There was a slight tinge of the coming winter floating in the air. Yet, the weather promised to hold steady for several days, long enough to take them through the weekend. The frost that had struck earlier in the month had caused Jarod some concern, for it had come sooner than he had anticipated. For a while, he had been afraid that the peak colors of autumn would come and go before they were ready.

But as dawn broke over the meadow, Jarod knew that they had not missed it. Golden yellow and bright red slashes of color beamed magically as the sunlight caressed his surroundings. Jarod smiled.

Heather had so desperately wanted an autumn wedding. Tomorrow was going to be perfect for her. It would be a beautiful day for a beautiful bride. Thinking of the slender, soft-spoken girl made Jarod smile wistfully. He adored Ethan's tiny fiancé. He'd move mountains for the girl if necessary. Arranging for the autumn foliage to oblige her wishes for one day seemed like a trifle compared to the miracle she had performed with Ethan.

Jarod's younger brother was no longer the cowering, hunted creature he had found in a warehouse years ago. Every day brought Ethan more confidence and increased self-worth as Heather's love buoyed him. She depended upon him, needed him in a way Ethan had never been needed before. She accepted him for what he was, never questioning his odd behavior, soothing his bad dreams even if he wasn't asleep when they came.

Jarod envied them both. He spent a lot of time with the couple, content to hover at the edges of their lives. He basked in the glow that seemed to radiate from their happiness, refusing to look too closely at his reasons for doing so.

"Would you like some breakfast?" a soft voice spoke. Jarod pulled himself away from his thoughts long enough to smile at his mother. He shook his head.

Jarod watched his mother pad across the porch and stop at his side. She hugged him around one arm and rested her head against his shoulder as she gazed at the panorama before them.

They stood in silence for a time. Mother and son comforted each other as they dwelt in separate thoughts. Finally, Margaret turned to look up at her firstborn, studying his profile inquisitively.

"Nervous?" she asked him.

Jarod shrugged. "I'm not the one getting married tomorrow Mom," he replied.

The older woman gave her son a knowing look. "But you are the one going to pick them up at the airport today," she said. When Jarod showed no intention of responding she went on. "You haven't seen either of them in a long time. You must be feeling a bit anxious."

Jarod looked down at his mother and grinned. The woman didn't look anything like him. As a matter of fact, Jarod didn't look like either of his parents. He and Emily both had dark eyes but aside from that, there was little family resemblance to be found. It had bothered Jarod more than a little during the early days of their reunion.

But as the weeks and months had passed, Jarod had come to see his parentage reflected in other ways. The Major was a brilliant, determined man with an unstoppable force of will. When Jarod's father set his mind to something, he didn't give up easily. Father and son had yet to lock horns over anything serious but the joke between them was that perhaps the Centre had done them a favor in keeping them separated while Jarod was a teen.

Jarod's mother, equally as smart as her husband, was far more insightful. The empathy she had for those around her was almost eerie. She alone knew how troubled Jarod had been the first time his father had commented on the Centre's interference in their lives. Margaret had an uncanny ability to know when Jarod was feeling unsure of himself and his place in their family. She always seemed to know when he was frightened or just in need of a hug.

"You're reading my mind again, Mom," Jarod teased her.

With a tender smile, Jarod's mother hugged his shoulders. "I don't read minds," she replied automatically. This exchange had been repeated many times in the last couple of years. "Your eyes tell me everything I need to know."

Jarod turned so that he could pull his mother into a full embrace. Laying his cheek against the top of her head, Jarod closed his eyes and savored the feeling of unconditional acceptance that flowed from this woman.

"Their coming here frightens you," Margaret tried again.

"Frightens?" Jarod frowned. "No. I'm not afraid of them." He straightened, folding his arms back across his chest. "Anxious? Yes. Nervous? Very. I haven't seen them for a long time. I have to admit that I'm more than a little excited as well."

Margaret cocked one eyebrow at her son. Jarod knew that his mother didn't approve of his continued contact with Sydney. Her displeasure was a big part of Jarod's current anxiety.

"Look," Jarod said. "I don't expect you and Sydney to hit it off. You have every right to detest his existence. But I really would appreciate it if you and Dad could at least tolerate his presence."

Margaret's eyes softened lovingly at her child. "I don't detest his existence," she soothed. "Sydney raised you. You've become a remarkable man because of his influence. I can't fault him for that."

"But he kept me from you," Jarod sighed. "Or helped to do so at any rate."

"Yes," Margaret admitted. "And for that I can never truly forgive him. But I promise to be civil while he is here. For your sake, I'll be cordial."

"Thank you," Jarod said as he kissed his mother's cheek.

With a shrug she added, "They can't be all bad. If they love you as much as Ethan says, there must be goodness in them somewhere."

"Sydney has a good heart," Jarod assured her. "Misguided and easily misled perhaps, but essentially good."

"And Miss Parker?" Margaret asked.

Jarod's body went very still as if waiting for some nasty trap to spring on him. "She had a heart once," he replied slowly.

"It was nice of her to bring Sydney to the wedding as her guest," Jarod's mother said. "She didn't have to give you the chance for a visit. She didn't have to come at all."

"Ethan is her brother too," Jarod reasoned. "She probably wants to be sure he isn't making a mistake."

"I'm sure that she and Heather will be great friends," Margaret said affectionately.

Jarod glanced at his mother warily. "I just hope Parker doesn't shoot anyone during the ceremony," he said, only half joking.

Margaret frowned. "She can't possibly object to Heather. Not a sweeter person exists on the planet."

"If Parker shoots anyone, it will be me," Jarod said. With a shrug he added, "We can really bring out the worst in each other." Embarrassment colored his cheeks. "I have been intentionally cruel to her in the past. We've both been cruel. And neither of us is very good at forgetting that kind of thing."

Jarod's mother eyed him critically for a long moment. Her sharp gaze seemed to bore into Jarod's soul. He did his best to feign innocence, to hide the thudding in his chest. But for some reason, he doubted he was successful.

"If this woman dislikes you so much," Margaret said. "Perhaps I should send Ethan to the airport with you. He can serve as peacekeeper."

"No," Jarod answered. He hoped that his refusal came out sounding as casual as he had wanted. "It'll be fine." How could he explain the truth? How could he describe his need to have Parker to himself for a while? True, Sydney would be there. But Sydney understood. At least Jarod believed he did.

So, Jarod would go to the terminal himself. He would meet the plane and greet his old mentor and ex-huntress. He would welcome them both and try to find some neutral topic to discuss for the hour-long drive back home. Sixty minutes. It would be the longest stretch of unoccupied time Jarod had ever spent with either of them. At least he'd be driving. He could always pretend to be concentrating on the road if things got uncomfortable.

It was strange. Never before had Jarod so looked forward to something he dreaded this much.

-

End part 1


	2. Airport

**Disclaimer: **The Pretender and its characters don't belong to me. But since those who do own them won't use them I'll just borrow them for a while. I refuse to let Jarod and those he loves stagnate, to whither and die.

-

**The Door of Memory**

Part 2 - By Phenyx

11/14/04

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "   
**Susan B. Anthony**_

**-**

Jarod always found airports depressing. In the past, he had walked alone through nearly every air terminal in the country and had come away feeling empty every time. With no one to see him off, no one to greet him, Jarod had envied his fellow passengers. Each goodbye kiss or welcoming embrace he had witnessed sent spears of loneliness through Jarod's being.

Since reuniting with his family, Jarod had flown to Chicago twice, arranging the consulting work that he did in order to make a living. When he had returned the first time, his mother had been standing at the arrival gate, looking for him. Jarod had burst into tears as he stepped into her arms. That moment of greeting, the dawning realization that someone was waiting for him, served to close many of the wounds inflicted by the Centre.

Yet, despite the fact that Jarod's life had radically changed, he still found airports to be disheartening. It was too easy for Jarod to see those who were as he had once been. There weren't a lot of them, but they were always around. The solitary souls, alone in the world, were as obvious to Jarod as a neon sign.

In his other life, Jarod would have sought them out. He would have eased his loneliness by easing theirs, found friendship with another human being for a few hours. But now Jarod let them go. He was too aware of the crushing desolation he would inflict when he abandoned the temporary companion in order to greet those he had truly come for.

Jarod shifted from one foot to the other. His stance exuded a calm exterior far more relaxed than was accurate. He waited patiently in an area cordoned off for just this purpose. At regular intervals, a knot of people would come down the corridor, passing the posted sign "Ticketed passengers only beyond this point." Several minutes of confusion would ensue as new arrivals searched the waiting crowd, loved ones were found and hugs were exchanged. Then the wave would pass, the scene would settle down and those who remained would continue waiting.

A polite voice filtered from the overhead speakers, announcing the arrival of the flight from Dover. Jarod tensed. He had a sudden urge to run down the corridor and help disembark the passengers. But he stood his ground.

He abruptly regretted not chartering a flight. He knew Parker hated flying commercial airlines and it would have been a simple enough thing to arrange for a private jet. Then again, travel arrangements had already been made by the time Jarod had even learned that Parker was coming. He'd had no say in the matter. Parker was coming on her terms, with no regard for Jarod's thoughts on the matter, as usual.

Jarod blinked as he realized he was staring at the two people coming down the long walkway. They must have been the first off the plane. Of course, they would have been in first class after all. Sydney walked quickly despite the carryon bag he hauled behind him. Excitement brightened the older man's eyes.

Parker, her arms folded across her chest, strode with her standard regal purpose. She had nothing with her, not even a purse, and Jarod knew that they would be making a stop at the luggage claim. She had not changed one bit.

Jarod became aware that he was grinning like an idiot. He couldn't have wiped the smirk off his face if his life depended upon it. Parker's steely gray eyes swept the waiting area, looking for _him_ Jarod realized with a start. When her hard gaze met his, something amazing happened. She smiled. It was a well-look-what-we-have-here, resigned kind of grin but Jarod could see the twinkle of mischief it brought to her eyes.

That was when it hit him. The feeling that struck him in that moment was as familiar to him as his own skin. His heart seemed to turn over in his chest, plummeting in a perfect swan dive past his fluttering stomach to crash somewhere in the vicinity of his ankles. The first time he had felt this way, Jarod had been in a glass room attached to a series of wires. His reaction to her had not altered in thirty years.

What had changed over the decades had been Jarod's interpretation of it. As a boy, he'd attributed the twisting in his chest to excitement, happiness at the chance to share this special friendship. When he'd been a young man, watching Parker stroll by without comment, Jarod had felt disappointment and pain in the sensation. During the years that she had pursued him, Jarod recognized it as fear, near panic, brought on by her proximity.

What the feeling instilled in Jarod today was much closer to what he had experienced the last time he had suffered such an onslaught. The butterflies in his stomach now had little to do with fear or disappointment. Heat rose to his cheeks as his mind treated him to the image he'd witnessed the last time he'd felt this way.

Parker had been silhouetted behind a screen, removing her shirt with agonizing slowness. Her slender body had been visible and yet not. She had been tantalizingly close, yet too far way to touch. The sensation he'd felt that day had been pure lust. Jarod had wanted her. If Ocee had not interrupted them, Jarod would have taken everything Parker was willing to give.

Jarod found himself wanting to erase the two years that separated them. He wanted to forget the dismal goodbye they had shared over the phone. He wanted to ignore the pain-filled moments in that damned limousine. He wanted to go back to the cabin, sitting in front of the fire, while Parker looked at him with softness in her eyes.

"_You are always with me," _her voice whispered through his mind. "Always," he vowed silently. Be it a hundred years or a million miles, no separation would ever sever the connection Jarod felt with this woman. He wished she could feel the same for him.

"Jarod!" Sydney called with an enthusiastic wave.

Then Jarod was among those he had once envied, rushing from his post to hug the older man. It felt good, really good, to wrap his arms around the man who had raised him. Sydney's voice, gruff with emotion, was warm and filled with sincere affection.

"I'm so glad to see you," Sydney said. With a firm pat on the back, he pulled away and took a hard look as his protégé. "You look well, Jarod."

"I am," Jarod smiled. "I'm happy. But I have missed you." He glanced at Parker and she arched one perfect eyebrow at him.

"You've cut your hair," she declared.

Jarod ran one hand across his head and shrugged. "Looks more respectable this way." Frankly it astonished him that she had noticed.

"Sure," she drawled knowingly. "You probably got tired of pushing it out of your eyes."

Jarod chuckled, preferring to laugh rather than examine how well she knew him. "It's nice to see you too Miss Parker," he said with a mocking bow.

"Yea. Right." Her tone seemed to indicate disbelief.

Tossing her a sidelong glance, Jarod teased. "Are you armed?"

"Too much trouble getting a firearm through security these days," she answered with a shake of her head.

Jarod laughed again. "Then I really **am **glad to see you Miss Parker." Before he could think about it too closely, Jarod gave in to an impulse, leaning forward to kiss Parker's cheek. He half expected her to deck him for it, but the flowery tantalizing aroma that briefly surrounded him was well worth a black eye.

Jarod felt Parker stiffen at the contact and he braced himself for a blow. But she didn't hit him. With his heart thudding painfully, Jarod tried to fathom what was going on behind those hard eyes. An emotion flashed across Parker's face, too quickly for him to fully interpret it. Stepping back, Jarod put some space between them before she could push him away.

An uncomfortable tension rose, weaving its way around the trio. Within seconds, Jarod's mind had flashed through a half dozen ways of handling the awkward situation. He chose an old standard. He grinned his most appealing smile, shrugged innocently and quickly changed the subject.

"Should we fetch your bags?" Jarod asked benignly. "Or shall we divide and conquer? You can grab your luggage while I bring the car around."

Parker made a rude noise. "No way am I letting you out of my sight, Rat. I have no desire to be stranded on the edge of America's back forty."

"Parker," Jarod gasped dramatically. "I wouldn't dream of abandoning you here." He paused momentarily for effect. "It will be far more effective when I kick you out of the car in the middle of nowhere."

"You're still a smart-ass, aren't you?" she asked.

The cocky grin on Jarod's face didn't falter. "My mother calls it boyish charm."

"I'll have to dispel that misconception for her while I'm here," Parker grumped.

Jarod's delight bubbled forth in laughter. "Good luck," he said as he began to walk in the direction of the luggage carousels. "My mother thinks I'm pretty wonderful."

"I'm sure I can come up with a few tales that may dent your image," she purred. "I could always make up something truly horrid."

Turning so that he could look at his companions while he walked backward, Jarod said, "You wouldn't lie to my family would you Parker?"

"I have to do something to even the scales," Parker answered. "Lord only knows what kind of delusional information you've given them about us."

"I have always been painfully honest in that regard," Jarod promised. "I assure you, I've told my parents nothing that wasn't absolutely true."

"That is what worries me," she replied.

Jarod laughed. He could see that Miss Parker was only half-joking. She was really concerned about this meeting with his parents. Oddly enough, her anxiety seemed to ease Jarod's own. If Parker cared what his family thought of her, she wasn't likely to start ripping into them as he had feared she might. Parker on her best behavior could be an enchanting creature. On a bad day, she was the coldest bitch Jarod had ever had the misfortune to meet. He was glad that his mother would be exposed to Parker's better side.

The next several minutes were occupied by the mundane task of finding suitcases and trekking to Jarod's car. They were turning onto the freeway before Parker asked pointedly, "Tell me about this girl."

"Heather?" Jarod asked.

Parker nodded.

Jarod smiled tenderly as he thought of his brother's betrothed. "She is very nice," he said.

"That much I had assumed," Parker bit in exasperation. "Does she understand the situation?"

"What situation?" Jarod tried for ignorance, knowing it wouldn't work.

Parker's sigh of impatience told Jarod that he'd been right. Playing stupid was futile with this woman around.

"She doesn't really understand Ethan's gift," Jarod explained. "Then again, none of us do. But she doesn't let it frighten her. She accepts it."

Parker glared at Jarod, silently pressing for more information.

Jarod sighed. "She is a little more needy than you'll appreciate," he admitted.

"Needy?" Parker frowned.

"Heather is petite. She has a soft, almost fragile, personality." Jarod shrugged. "She tends to defer to others."

"Ethan needs someone who is able to take care of him," Parker said.

"Actually," Jarod began. "He seems to thrive on taking care of her. They compliment each other. Together they become an entity stronger than the sum of their individual parts. Watching them together has an allure that I can't quite explain. It's like," he paused, trying to find words to explain the draw he felt toward the couple. "It's like watching love bloom."

"You like her," Parker's remark was a statement, not a question.

"I like her very much," Jarod smiled. "Ethan is a lucky man."

"Do I detect envy in your voice, Jarod?" Sydney asked from the back seat.

"Some," Jarod admitted. "But it's not like I'm panting after my brother's almost-wife. It is what they've found together that I envy. Heather's very sweet but she's not my type."

"And what is your type, exactly?" Parker asked.

Jarod shot her a mischievous glance. "Someone vying for sainthood?" he drawled playfully.

Parker snickered.

"An heiress to some huge ice cream empire?" Jarod tried again.

Miss Parker's genuine smile urged Jarod on.

"A junk-food obsessed, sex maniac?" Jarod said hopefully.

Without batting an eyelash, Parker asked, "All of the above?"

"That will work," Jarod said with a grin then added, "But I'd prefer a girl with no knowledge of firearms or handcuffs."

"What have you got against handcuffs?" Parker sniffed, arching one brow regally.

"I never met a pair of shackles I really cared for," Jarod admitted.

Parker smiled slyly. "You've just never met a girl who knew how to use them properly," she said with a suggestive huskiness in her voice.

Sydney abruptly cleared his throat, indicating embarrassment.

"Uh-oh," Jarod mumbled. Aloud he said, "We seem to be deviating from the specified rules of the game, Miss Parker."

"Rules?" she asked softly.

Jarod nodded. "I run, you chase. I taunt, you threaten."

"The game has changed Jarod," Parker said. "Those rules don't apply anymore."

Jarod shot her a questioning glance. "Then I suppose we'll need to define new boundaries."

"Maybe I'll get to set a few this time around," Parker growled.

She was making this too easy for him, Jarod thought. His smile grew as he teased her. "You've always made the rules Miss Parker," he said in a playfully condescending tone. "But you know what they say." Jarod took his eyes from the road long enough to catch her doubtful glare. "Rules were made to be broken."

"You would know," she sighed.

"I could never ignore a challenge." Jarod laughed. What remained of his nervousness vanished abruptly. He knew that there were still some awkward moments in store for them over the next few days. But Jarod didn't care.

He was having fun.

-

End part 2


	3. Heather

**Disclaimer: **The Pretender and its characters don't belong to me. But since those who do own them won't use them I'll just borrow them for a while. I refuse to let Jarod and those he loves stagnate, to wither and die. Who knew anybody actually read these things?

-

**The Door of Memory**

Part 3 – By Phenyx

11/27/04

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "  
**Susan B. Anthony**_

**-**

"How much further?" Miss Parker asked. Her tone was heavily laced with impatience.

Jarod flashed his companion a devilish grin. "Tired of my company already?"

Hard gray eyes glared at him. "I can only listen to you boobs chatter for so long," she huffed.

"Studies of the effects of urban encroachment upon wildlife have been going on for years," Sydney said. "But you must admit, Miss Parker, that this new angle is rather intriguing. The adaptation of wolves, as social creatures, versus that of cougars which lead a more solitary existence, should reveal a more accommodating nature among the pack."

"If you want to watch a bunch of flea-bitten critters eat their own young," Parker grumped. "Then whoop-de-do for you, Jarod."

Jarod laughed. "I don't do the research, Miss Parker," he explained. "I write the grant applications and raise the funds that pay for it."

"What will you do once the research starts?" Sydney asked.

"Move on to the next assignment," Jarod said. "I don't find them all as interesting as this particular study. Most of the groups that hire us are pretty dull."

"Then why do it?" Parker snapped.

"I like the challenge," Jarod admitted. "Finding money for a good cause can be very rewarding."

Parker sighed. "Still fighting for the little guy."

"I suppose so," Jarod said with a shrug.

Sydney reached over the seat and affectionately patted Jarod's shoulder. "There is nothing wrong with fighting for a good cause."

"Thanks, Sydney," Jarod said. "The one thing I don't like is that, as a consulting firm, we have to wait for the cause to come to us."

"No freebies huh?" Parker asked.

"The management frowns on it." Jarod nodded. He turned the car off the state route and onto a narrow, two-lane road that was only barely paved. "But that will change soon," he added.

"How so?" Sydney asked.

"I've been offered a position with another firm," Jarod went on. "I did some work for them a couple of months ago and they were impressed. They want me on staff. The Phoenix Foundation has a world-renowned reputation for altruistic endeavors. It strikes me as being what Catherine Parker hoped The Centre would become. The difference being that the Phoenix Foundation has an ethics committee. And no sweepers."

"I've heard of them," Sydney said. "And you're right, Phoenix is the opposite of everything The Centre came to stand for. I understand that some of their troubleshooters travel around the world for a multitude of reasons."

Jarod shrugged. "I wouldn't be troubleshooting. I'll still be hunting up funds, writing up grant proposals and such. It's the same job I'm doing now, but with more money and more interesting assignments. I'll simply be flying to California twice a year instead of Chicago."

"Well, congratulations on the new job Jarod," Sydney said with a smile. "I'm sure you'll be a success. The Phoenix Foundation will be lucky to have you."

"Oh please," Parker groaned. "Don't inflate his ego any more than necessary, Syd."

Jarod gasped. "I'm hurt!" he cried dramatically. "You know how naturally modest I am Miss Parker."

Parker scoffed. "Modest is not one of the first adjectives that springs to mind where you are concerned, Rat."

Jarod's eyes twinkled mischievously. "The second perhaps?"

Parker's gray eyes rolled in exasperation. "Not exactly," she sighed. "Are we even remotely close to our destination?" she added in a sharp voice.

"Just around the next curve," Jarod said. "Actually, we've been on the property since we left the main road."

Parker cast a startled glance out her window. Row after row of green passed by. "You grow corn?" she asked in surprise.

"No," Jarod explained. "I rent most of the land out to a local co-op of farmers. We keep a few acres for ourselves, just enough for a couple of horses and plenty of privacy around the house."

"Is Jack still trying to saddle break that colt you gave to him for Christmas?" Sydney asked.

"Yes," Jarod admitted with a wry chuckle. "We are hoping he'll learn a little patience during the process. It's amazing how different Jack and I are, considering that we share identical genetics."

"You were raised with kindness and tolerance," Parker said. "The boy wasn't as lucky."

"I know," Jarod replied, his voice little more than a whisper. For a moment, the silence within the car was deafening. The old tension between them rose up without warning and for a minute, Jarod once again felt like the property these two people owned. Swallowing hard, Jarod mentally pushed aside his anxiety. "There's the house," he said, pointing toward the structure as it came into view.

"Just like on Walton's mountain," Parker said wryly.

"Where?" Jarod asked with a frown.

"Never mind," Parker replied. She looked at the farmhouse for a long moment and then said softly, "I'm glad you've found your way home, Jarod."

Jarod stared at her in astonishment and he found himself wondering what she was up to. His suspicions embarrassed him to some degree but he just couldn't stop himself. Parker sounded sincere. Jarod wanted very much to believe that she was, but old habits are hard to break.

Those lovely gray eyes turned toward Jarod and softened as Parker smiled sadly at him. He felt the familiar wrenching in his heart as he gazed at her. All his life, Jarod had wanted few things more than he had wanted to remove that loneliness from Miss Parker's eyes.

"What is going on here?" Sydney's voice snapped Jarod from his reverie. For a moment, Jarod had forgotten that the older man was there.

With a frown, Jarod glanced toward the house. It seemed as if Sydney was right, something did seem to be amiss. As the car pulled to a stop Jarod could see his mother coming toward them. His father and Jack were at the front door, hovering uncertainly. Emily, wringing her hands, was on the porch wearing a worried frown. Ethan stood at the foot of the porch steps with Heather wrapped protectively in his embrace. The girl was crying into her fiancée's shirt.

No one seemed to be hurt but Jarod felt a stab of panic nonetheless. "What's wrong?" he asked his mother as soon as he had stepped from the car. Suddenly everyone was talking at once. Through the cacophony of voices, Jarod couldn't understand a thing.

"Wait," he tried to no avail. Everyone was going on in rapid excited tones that made no sense. Putting two fingers between his lips, Jarod whistled loudly enough to startle everyone into silence. "Did somebody die?" Jarod asked seriously.

"No," Jarod's mother gasped.

"Anyone injured?" he went on.

Jarod's mother crossed her arms in exasperation. "No," she answered.

"Then how bad can it be?"

Heather began to cry again as Ethan answered. "There's a problem with the reception hall. A pipe burst last night, flooding the entire place. The water's been shut off now but repairs won't be finished by tomorrow."

"Everything is wet," Heather wailed. "The carpets are ruined! The grounds are nothing but muddy swamp from where they pumped water out of the building." The girl buried her face in Ethan's chest.

Shrugging helplessly Ethan added, "They won't even let us get married in the gazebo. The place is a real mess."

"Is that all?" Jarod sighed with relief.

"Jarod," his mother scolded. "We won't be able to find another venue with only twenty-four hours notice."

"I wanted to get married in that gazebo," Heather cried. "It was the most beautiful spot. It was perfect."

"Honey," Ethan tried to soothe the girl. "It doesn't really matter where we get married. As long as we are together, nothing else matters."

Heather gazed up at her beloved with large blue eyes. "I want our life together to be perfect," she whispered. She caressed Ethan's cheek with her palm as she spoke. "I wanted our first day as man and wife to be as wonderful as all the days that will follow."

Jarod smiled as he watched the young couple kiss. Just being around the two lovers made Jarod feel warm inside. Grinning like an idiot, he glanced over at Miss Parker, wanting only to share this moment with her. But the gray gaze that met his was not a smiling one. Neither was it the hard angry glare that Jarod had come to expect over the years. Parker's eyes were filled with concern and anxiety. She was upset for Heather's sake.

Inspiration suddenly struck. Whether it had been sparked by Heather's tears or Parker's fretful glance, Jarod wasn't sure. It didn't matter really. It was a damn good idea.

"Heather," Jarod said softly. When the girl's blond head had turned toward him Jarod asked, "Do you trust me?"

She nodded silently.

Jarod held his hand out to her. "Let me show you something."

The girl took his hand and Jarod led her around the corner of the house. He said nothing to the rest of his family, but they followed anyway. The entire group paraded after Jarod, following him around the flowerbeds and into the back yard.

"Look," Jarod said. With an affectionate smile, he placed his hands on Heather's shoulders and turned her toward the scene laid out before them. The red and gold autumn leaves seemed to dance for a moment as a slight breeze whispered by. The magic Jarod had admired at sunrise seemed to settle over their surroundings once more. "You will have your autumn wedding, Heather," Jarod promised. "You will be married in a gazebo beneath that maple tree."

Heather sniffed. "There is no gazebo beneath that tree, Jarod," she said with a hesitant smile.

"I'll build you one," Jarod said.

The girl's eyebrows rose quizzically. "Have you ever done that before?"

"How hard can it be?" Jarod shrugged. With a smile, Jarod gently placed his fingers beneath Heather's chin and tilted her face upward. "I want you to be my little sister. Please let me do this for you."

The girl's answering smile was as bright as the sun. "You are so wonderful," she said as she hugged Jarod tightly.

"Damsels in distress have always been Jarod's specialty," Parker's wry voice spoke up.

Jarod grinned playfully at her. "The shining armor protects against everything except a pretty girl's tears," he said.

"If I find out you have a white horse," Parker chided. "I swear I'll puke."

-

End Part 3


	4. Locked out

**Disclaimer: **The Pretender and its characters don't belong to me. But since those who do own them won't use them I'll just borrow them for a while. I refuse to let Jarod and those he loves stagnate, to wither and die.

-

**Author's Note: **Twinkies and extra Pez to anyone who recognized the crossover reference in the last chapter. For those of you who didn't, allow me to explain. The Phoenix Foundation is the company that MacGyver worked for after he left the DSX. The foundation was involved in everything from environmental issues to political security. MacGyver was the best troubleshooter The Phoenix Foundation had. Which basically means that he did whatever Pete Thornton asked him to. Any similarity in the name of this foundation and your humble author is purely coincidental. Well, not purely, I really like MacGyver.

-

**The Door of Memory**

Part 4 – By Phenyx

11/27/04

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "  
**Susan B. Anthony**_

**-**

It was nearly eleven o'clock at night before Jarod set his paintbrush aside and stepped back to admire his handiwork. The gazebo he had promised Heather was done. Well, almost done anyway. It was still in four rather large pieces spread across the garage floor. But with a little help, those could easily be assembled in the morning. All that was left to do this evening was watch the white paint dry.

With a weary sigh, Jarod wiped his brow on the back of one arm. He was filthy. Covered in sawdust and spattered paint, his skin felt as though it was buried beneath layers of grime. Ignoring his dirty hands, Jarod grabbed what was left of a sandwich and munched on it as he stared thoughtfully at the wooden construction.

The result had been everything Jarod could have hoped for. He'd built the gazebo in the garage so that the lawn wouldn't be marred by sawdust or paint. The pieces were small enough for easy transport to the structure's final destination. A hammer, some nails and about thirty minutes work, and everything would be ready for the wedding tomorrow.

Not that Jarod had done all the work alone. Everyone had combined their efforts in order to pull things together. Sydney had worked with Jarod for most of the day, holding planks and listening to Jarod talk through the architectural plans he had in his head. Exhausted and a little jet-lagged, the older man had gone to bed only when Jarod began to put the final touches on the paint job.

The rest of Jarod's family had broken into similar pairs. Jack and the Major had ferried rented tables and chairs from the hall. Emily and Heather had picked up all the tuxedos and gowns. Ethan and Miss Parker had arranged flowers and decorations. Jarod's mother had made phone calls to caterers and guests alike. Like a well-oiled machine, everyone had worked together to make things as perfect as possible.

There was nothing left to do but wait.

Jarod picked up a nearly empty glass and downed the liquid it held in one long swallow. The lemonade was watery and warm. No surprise considering that the ice had melted sometime around sunset. Carrying the empty glass in one hand, Jarod turned off the lights with the other and headed for the house.

As he crossed the yard, Jarod took a moment to savor the night. The air was cool, refreshing after working hard in the hot afternoon. The stars above were bright in a moonless sky. As Jarod approached the house he realized that the back door was open.

He hadn't intended to sneak onto the porch. But after years of training, Jarod's movements were naturally silent. He glided to the door like a wraith and halted among the shadows.

On the other side of the screen door, the kitchen lights burned brightly. The scene seemed so warm and welcoming that Jarod felt himself drawn to it like a moth to the flame. But rather than enter, he chose instead to savor the sight, to burn it on his memory like a photograph.

His mother and Miss Parker were sitting at the kitchen table. Both women were dressed in bathrobes and had teacups before them. Parker's hair was wet. She had one long leg folded so that her knee nearly hugged her chest. She was smiling at something Jarod's mother had said, something Jarod had not caught.

Hovering in the darkness, Jarod listened to the two women talk.

"How did you know my mother?" Parker asked abruptly.

"We were introduced by a man who was trying to help us find Jarod," Margaret began. "Out of the blue he called me one day. I don't know how he found us. But he knew so much about us, about Jarod. This man had pictures of Jarod, who would have been eight or nine at the time. He was the one who told us about the Centre."

Margaret sipped delicately at her tea then went on. "He told us that he wanted to help free Jarod but he feared that he was already suspect. We needed the support of someone within the Centre, someone above reproach. He arranged the first meeting with your mother."

"Fenigore," Parker said. "His name was Fenigore."

"No," Jarod's mother replied. "He said his name was Jacob."

Parker flinched visibly.

"Did you know him?" Margaret asked.

"Sort of," Parker answered softly. "I only met him a few years ago, just before he died."

"I always wondered what had happened to him," Margaret said. "He risked so much for us. When he disappeared, I feared that something might have happened to him."

"There was an accident," Parker explained. "He never recovered. He was comatose for the rest of his life, only regaining consciousness for a few hours near the end."

The two women were silent for a moment, each sipping quietly at her tea and lost in her own thoughts.

"How do you know my son?" Margaret asked.

Parker smiled wryly. "Hasn't Jarod told you?"

Jarod's mother shook her head. "He has mentioned you in the past, but never actually said anything informative."

"That seems to be one of his many talents." Parker's eyes flashed vulnerably. "I find it difficult to believe he talks about me. We aren't exactly on good terms."

"He has made the occasional stray comments about you," Margaret said thoughtfully. Eavesdropping on the porch, Jarod squirmed uncomfortably. He hadn't been aware that he referred to Parker that often. Margaret went on. "He says things like 'Parker always hates it when I do this' or 'Parker never liked that'. I get the impression that Jarod values your opinion but I haven't a clear picture of why that is."

"He valued my opinion once upon a time," Parker admitted. "We were friends once."

"Close friends?" Margaret asked.

"Very." Parker sighed. "When my mother died, I was left alone a lot. I was a lonely child. He was a lonely child. We gravitated toward one another."

"You comforted each other," Margaret supplied.

"I suppose we did, " Parker agreed. "For a while anyway."

Margaret tilted her head inquisitively. "What happened?"

"I grew up." Parker said in a flat voice. "Daddy sent me away to complete my education. Jarod was left behind. Years later, he ran away from The Centre and it was my turn to be left behind."

"You pursued him," Margaret said. "You tried to catch him and take him back in the Centre."

"Yes." Parker's answer was simple and straightforward. She watched Margaret with an unfaltering gaze and seemed not the least bit afraid of the older woman's recriminations. Parker continued. "He did get caught, not once but twice. Both times because he was trying to help me."

"Sounds to me like you're still friends," Margaret observed.

Parker shrugged. "He thinks so."

"You don't?" the older woman pried.

Parker stared into her cup for a moment before answering. "I'm a lousy friend." She sighed. "The damned thing is, there is very little Jarod wouldn't do for me if I asked. I know that. Deep down, I've always known that." Parker's gray eyes shimmered sadly as she looked up at the older woman. "I just don't know how to deal with that kind of loyalty. How do I repay an honesty that is so foreign I can barely recognize it?"

Jarod watched his mother work her magic. Miss Parker was not an easy person to know. Granted, Jarod had a way of getting the ice queen to spill her inner most thoughts but that was a skill he'd developed over years. His mother had known Parker for less than a day, yet here she was, prying confessions from Parker that Jarod hadn't even known existed.

Margaret reached out and clasped Miss Parker's hand. Parker glanced up warily and for a moment she seemed about to pull away, but she didn't. "I'll tell you how to repay his friendship, Miss Parker," the older woman said tenderly. "Accept it. Accept that affection for the simple, selfless thing that it is."

"He deserves so much more than I can give him," Parker whispered.

Margaret nodded. "He deserves more than any of us can give. But he has never asked for what he deserves. He wants only what we have already offered."

Jarod stood on the porch, firmly rooted to the spot. He was less than half a step from the line of illumination cast by the kitchen lights. But he remained still, as motionless as a statue while his heart thudded painfully in his chest.

His mother didn't understand. The truth was, Jarod wanted so much more than she realized. He wanted more than friendship, more than affection. He wanted everything Parker had to give and then he wanted more. Standing alone in the dark, inches away from the home he had struggled for so long to find, Jarod came to a startling realization.

He loved her.

He loved Parker with every fiber of his being. He had loved her from the day he first set eyes on her. What Jarod felt when he looked at her or heard her voice, had nothing to do with friendship or fear, disappointment or desire. It had to do with all those feelings combined. Emotions intertwined into a connection that was so strong nothing could break it.

He loved her.

Jarod's first impulse was to dash into the kitchen and sweep Parker into his arms. His body started to move and he had swayed forward in a half step before he realized what was happening. A split second later he caught himself, stopping in mid-stride. Transfixed, he stared into the kitchen at the two most important women in his life. They were smiling at each other now, talking calmly about nonsense that Jarod could barely comprehend in his current state.

He loved her. And she could barely tolerate his presence.

Jarod's entire universe seemed to collapse in upon itself coalescing into a hard, hot knot of pain that lanced through his heart. The force of it knocked the breath from his lungs and left his knees trembling. She hated him. She wanted him dead. She loathed his very existence.

Some small sensible part of Jarod's brain tried to tell him he was exaggerating. Parker had never truly meant to harm him. '_But she has threatened your life more than once,' _he thought. Reason whispered back, '_If she wanted you dead, you would be pushing up daisies.'_

Jarod wanted to cry. The fact that Parker had never shot him didn't mean she cared. As a matter of fact, evidence seemed to point to the contrary. Jarod could count on one hand the number of times the woman had spared him a kind word in the last decade.

Closing his eyes, Jarod savored the pain writhing through him. Agony was something Jarod knew very well. He'd spent a lifetime learning about it, experiencing it, dealing with it. But never had he felt anything so pure and destructive as what tore at him at this moment.

Jarod stood in the dark, shaking uncontrollably in the aftermath of his epiphany. He didn't move when his mother stood up and cleared the cups from the table. He remained motionless as Parker rose and gracefully tucked a stray lock of hair behind one ear. She came toward Jarod but did not see him in the shadows as she closed the back door. Through the window, Jarod could see the two ladies wander from the room. The kitchen lights abruptly blinked out, leaving Jarod alone with the night.

He loved her.

Turning away from the house, Jarod stumbled across the porch. With a heavy thud he sat on the wooden steps and stared blindly into the darkness. "What the hell am I going to do now?" he asked aloud. The sound of his own voice startled him and he laughed nervously.

Burying his face in his hands, Jarod closed his eyes and concentrated on taking deep, calming breaths. It took several minutes but eventually the racing of his heart eased. When he finally looked up again, his head was thudding dully and he felt a little nauseous but the trembling had stopped.

Jarod shook his head sadly. The woman he loved had spent years shutting him out. He twisted his body to glare at the door. Frowning as if the wood was to blame, Jarod felt a sudden urge to kick the thing down. The symbolism was not lost on Jarod. She had closed the door on him, locking him out of her life and leaving him alone in the dark.

'_But it isn't locked.' _The thought flitted through Jarod's mind so quickly that he nearly missed it. He tilted his head inquisitively and tried to remember if he had heard the deadbolt turn. He rose slowly, crossing the porch with a strange mixture of hope and dread churning in his gut.

He pulled open the screen door with one hand and with the other he reached out to grasp the brass doorknob. It turned with ease, allowing the door to swing open soundlessly. Jarod heaved a shaky breath as he gazed upward in the direction of the room where Parker would be sleeping.

Everything suddenly seemed to fall into place in Jarod's mind. It was the perfect representation of their lives together. Parker had spent years protecting herself, closing emotional doors in Jarod's face. But never once had she locked him out completely. All Jarod had to do was reach out to her, push ever so gently, and those barriers fell away.

Jarod stepped across the threshold and into the house with a strange sense of wonder. It occurred to him that for the first time in his life, everything he loved was under one roof. A hope filled smile began to spread across his face.

"Time to set some new boundaries," Jarod whispered. He promised himself that this time, the rules of the game were going to be very different. It was his turn to do the chasing, his turn to pursue her.

If he played the game right this time around, they would both win.

-

End part 4

**Author's Note: **Is the syrup getting too thick? If so, let me know and I'll try to ease up a tad. But to be honest, this is pretty much going to be the common theme for the rest of the story. I did warn you. When I say 'fluffy romance' I mean it.


	5. Next Day

**Disclaimer: **The Pretender and its characters don't belong to me. But since those who do own them won't use them I'll just borrow them for a while. I refuse to let Jarod and those he loves stagnate, to wither and die.

* * *

**The Door of Memory**

Part 5 – By Phenyx

11/28/04

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "  
**Susan B. Anthony**_

-

Jarod stood in the hallway and fumbled nervously with his jacket. He hadn't slept at all during the night. He'd lain awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling as he thought through his current situation. Sometime around dawn, he had realized that he was plotting a strategy, running possible simulations and formulating a plan of attack. The sudden awareness of what he'd been doing had made him physically ill.

After he had thrown up, Jarod made a promise to himself and to Miss Parker. He would not use his knowledge of her as a weapon. He would not manipulate her or twist her emotions to fit his own purpose. Others had used her that way in the past. Jarod refused to become one of them.

Jarod vowed to be completely honest with her. He would open his heart and bare his soul, letting Parker see the unvarnished truth about his feelings for her. If she rejected him once again, so be it. But he would not deceive her.

Girding up his courage, Jarod reached up and knocked quickly on the bedroom door before him.

"Come," Sydney called in his usual clipped tone.

Jarod opened the door cautiously and peeked inside.

"Jarod," Sydney greeted with a smile. "Come in, come in. I missed you at breakfast."

"I was finishing the gazebo," Jarod answered with a shrug.

"I saw it," Sydney said. "It looks great. Heather seems delighted."

Jarod nodded.

Sydney grinned at his protégé. "You look very dashing in your tuxedo, Jarod," he said warmly.

"The best man needs to look his part," Jarod shrugged. He looked away, suddenly unsure of himself and slightly embarrassed about why he had come.

"Jarod?" Sydney asked concern etched on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Jarod answered quickly. "It's just that…" He paused for a moment before going on. "I wanted to tell you how glad I am that you've come. Seeing you again has been really nice."

"But?" Sydney supplied.

A wry grin spread across Jarod's face. There wasn't much he had ever been able to hide from Sydney. He wasn't exactly sure why he was trying to hide this. Therefore, Jarod decide to stop trying to do so. "I came to warn you." Jarod smiled.

"Warn me?"

With a nod, Jarod continued. "I know that you are technically Miss Parker's escort for the day. So I thought it only fair to let you know."

Sydney cocked one eyebrow and waited for Jarod to explain.

"I plan on stealing your date at some point, Sydney," Jarod said.

The older man smiled knowingly. "You're going to make a move on Miss Parker?"

"Several if necessary, "Jarod admitted.

"And you felt the need to tell me this, why?" Sydney asked.

Jarod shrugged, his brown eyes sparkling mischievously. "So you will know when to get out of my way?"

Sydney folded his arms over his chest and gazed seriously at his young friend. "It is my duty to protect her, Jarod," he said.

"Protect her from me?"

"Especially from you," Sydney nodded.

Jarod's dark eyes went wide with surprise and pain. "Why?"

With a heavy sigh Sydney stepped toward Jarod and patted his shoulder in affectionate reassurance. "Of all the people left in this world, Jarod, you are the only one who could break her heart."

"I don't want to hurt her, Sydney," Jarod said softly. "I just want to make her happy. I don't want her to be alone anymore."

Sydney shook his head. "You want her to love again," he said. "You want her to love **you **again."

"Again?" Jarod's shoulders sagged dejectedly. "I'm not sure she ever did."

"I'm sure," Sydney said. "As a child, she cared very deeply for you. Whether she recognizes it or not, the friendship the two of you once shared has colored your every encounter. Her affection for that boy, her guilt at abandoning him and his continuing loyalty are all an integral part of who she has become."

"Do you really think so?" Jarod could hear the hope in his own voice, the desperate need to believe what Sydney was saying.

Sydney smiled sadly. "You've never seen it Jarod," he said. "You've never seen her struggle with two opposing truths. One truth given to her by her father, the other supplied by you. She trusted you over him every time."

"I usually had proof, Sydney," Jarod pointed out wryly.

"Proof can be manufactured," Sydney told him. "The Centre did it all the time. Do you think Mr. Parker never had evidence against you? I shudder to think of some of the lies he told about you. But Parker knew better than to believe them. She knew **you **better."

"What are you trying to say, Sydney?" Jarod asked in exasperation. "Are you telling me to back off?"

"I'm telling you that if you hurt her, she will close her heart forever," Sydney said. "No one else will ever be allowed past the walls she will build around herself. If that happens, I will be greatly disappointed in you both."

"I love her, Sydney," Jarod shrugged helplessly.

The older man's smile was warm and bright. "I know you do, Jarod. Just be careful. Hearts can be such fragile things. And the two hearts in question are very precious to me."

Jarod smiled and allowed his aging mentor to pull him into a warm embrace.

"Jarod?" Margaret's voice called through the house.

"Coming!" he hollered over one shoulder in response. Jarod stepped back, breaking contact with the older man before saying, "Thank you, Sydney."

Sydney nodded. "Good luck."

As Jarod left the room and made his way down the stairs, he felt like skipping with joy. Sydney's concern for Parker's feelings had given Jarod the hope that she actually had some. If Parker cared for him in even smallest amount, Jarod knew he could build upon it. The prospects were definitely looking much brighter.

Jarod had just reached the landing on the first floor when he heard a sound behind him. Turning, he looked up to see Miss Parker at the top of the stairway. He grinned like an idiot as he watched her descend.

Parker's hair was piled on top of her head in that perfectly coifed jumble of curls that Jarod always thought of as her 'fancy hairdo'. Her shoulders were bare, revealing creamy white skin that Jarod's fingers ached to touch. The dress was a strapless thing that wrapped tightly around her bosom leaving more than a hint of cleavage. The satiny fabric was an odd color, somewhere between silver and blue, making the color of her eyes even more vibrant than normal.

Jarod's eyes continued their perusal as Parker came down the staircase toward him. The floor-length dress clung to her every curve. In the front, the skirt was split up to mid-thigh and with every step Parker took, a tantalizing bit of leg appeared.

Jarod fought a sudden urge to grab her. A primal, instinctive need to possess this woman nearly overwhelmed him. He blinked, and in that instant his mind treated him to an erotic fantasy of pressing Parker against the banister and simply taking her. Instead, he waited clasping his fingers behind his back in what he hoped was a casual pose.

Parker stopped on the second to last step, forcing Jarod to look up at her. "Well?" she drawled expectantly.

Jarod had to clear his throat in order to find his voice. "Wow," he said with honest appreciation.

Parker smiled like a cat about to pounce on a bird. "You like?" she purred.

"You have no idea," Jarod groaned.

"Enlighten me."

Jarod's mind was blank. He had no clue what he should say, no snappy comeback. So he said the first thing that popped into his head. "I'll bet you taste great."

Parker laughed with delight. "Better than ice cream, Rat."

"Really?" Jarod couldn't stop smiling. Parker's grin was infectious.

"Guaranteed," Parker replied in a husky voice.

"Are you going to let me test that hypothesis?" Jarod asked.

Parker shrugged uncaringly. "I'll think about it," she said. Reaching out, she brushed her fingertips across Jarod's shoulder as if removing a stray piece of lint. "You're looking rather yummy yourself, Pez-head."

"Want a taste?" Jarod asked hopefully.

Placing one delicate palm against his chest, Parker leaned forward. Jarod licked his lips and closed his eyes in anticipation. They were only inches apart when Parker spoke, her soft breath warm on Jarod's cheek. "I'll think about it," she whispered.

With a wicked laugh, Parker pulled away and gracefully stepped past him.

"Bitch," Jarod grumped, the smile on his face taking the bite out of his words.

"Always," Parker replied. "And don't you forget it."

"No Ma'am," Jarod answered.

"Well," Parker said. "Shall we get this shindig started?"

"Yes Ma'am," Jarod chirped. He offered Parker his arm and nearly burst into joyous laughter when she placed her hand in his.

As they began to walk toward the door Parker observed, "You're being abnormally accommodating, Rat."

"Just doing my best to get into your pants, Miss Parker," Jarod grinned evilly. He could flirt just as outrageously as she could.

"It's not going to happen, Jarod," she replied in a soft, almost forlorn voice. She paused as Jarod's smile slid slowly from his face. "I'm not wearing any pants," she added in an exaggerated stage whisper.

Jarod faltered, nearly falling on his face in shock. He recovered quickly and cast Parker a delighted grin. "This is going to be a lot of fun, isn't it?" he asked.

"I certainly hope so." Parker smiled back. "It gives our little game of cat and mouse an entirely new slant, don't you agree?"

"Yes Ma'am," Jarod replied obediently.

One flawless eyebrow arched regally at him. "Play nice and follow all the rules, then no one will get hurt," she warned.

"I will do my very best," Jarod promised as he held the door open for her.

"Or you'll die trying," Parker added sweetly.

-

End part 5

**Author's note: **Thanks to all who've left reviews. I truly appreciate every single one of you. I'm so glad to know that you are having as much fun reading this as I am having writing it. Don't worry. I'm still a several chapters away from being done. I just wanted to express my thanks.


	6. Dirty Dancing

**Disclaimer: **The Pretender and its characters don't belong to me. But since those who do own them won't use them I'll just borrow them for a while. I refuse to let Jarod and those he loves stagnate, to wither and die.

-

**The Door of Memory**

Part 6 – By Phenyx

11/28/04

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "  
**Susan B. Anthony**_

-

Jarod was in heaven.

His eyes were closed and in the darkness behind his lids he savored this sensation. Parker's warm body pressed against his, her hair soft against Jarod's cheek. Her scent surrounded him and he felt as though he could gladly drown in the tantalizing aroma.

They were dancing. Well, they had started out dancing at any rate. But it had been hours since Jarod had held his hand out to Parker and she had taken it. Their first dance had been a waltz and they had moved together as easily as if they had been doing it all their lives.

Parker had made a smart-assed remark comparing Jarod to Fred Astaire. Jarod had, of course, taken it for the challenge it was. For the next hour, he proceeded to show Parker every dance step he knew. She had matched him stride for stride. Parker had even managed to teach him a thing or two during a sultry modern number that had left Jarod very hot and very bothered.

In all the years Jarod had known this woman, he had never felt as if he were permitted to touch her. Any physical contact was usually brief, avoided whenever possible. It was as if the pane of glass that separated them during their first meeting had never really been removed. But now, magically, the invisible barrier between them had vanished.

Wrapped comfortably in each other's arms, Jarod and Parker were doing little more than swaying to the music at this point. With one hand, Jarod caressed soft little circles on Parker's bare shoulder. With the other he held her close, resting his fingertips at the small of her back just above the curve of her derriere. He never wanted to let her go.

He was being rude. Jarod knew that. He had ignored everyone else at the reception. The wedding had been lovely and Jarod had maintained his decorum enough to at least act interested in the ceremony. But once the party had begun, he'd had eyes for no one but Miss Parker.

About an hour ago, Ethan had cut in, begging for a turn around the dance floor with his sister. Jarod had wanted to rip the young man apart in a fit of territorial envy. But being the semi-civilized, non-caveman that he was, Jarod had smiled politely and allowed it. He had gritted his teeth and danced with the bride, oozing as much charm as he could muster for the duration.

He'd been back at Parker's side before the song had even ended.

"Jarod?" The delicate weight of Parker's head on Jarod's shoulder eased as she pulled back to look at him.

"Hmm?" Jarod kept his eyes closed, clinging to this paradise for as long as possible.

"They are cutting the cake," Parker informed him.

"So?" Jarod could feel the gentle laughter in Parker's body, though he could not hear it.

"I assumed you would want some," Parker said.

"Not really," Jarod replied. His voice was low and deep and carried a sleepy, relaxed tone that sounded strange even to his own ears.

Parker stiffened slightly, causing Jarod to open his eyes and frown. "Are you feeling okay?" she asked sternly.

"Very okay," he assured her.

That perfect brow arched carefully at him. "It's not like you to pass up a sugary confection such as that," she said. "Icing and everything."

Jarod smiled. She was teasing him again and he loved it. "I've been forced to set some priorities," he told her. "Evidently, some things are far sweeter than others." Jarod abruptly picked up speed, twirling them both in a tight circle. He ended the spin by folding Parker over his arm in a graceful dip. He held her there, suspended halfway to the floor as he murmured, "I'm still waiting to taste the sweetest." Jarod's eyes focused intently on Parker's lips as he spoke, leaving little doubt as to his meaning.

Parker's smile as he eased her upright sent shivers of anticipation down Jarod's spine.

"I don't know about that," she said in a serious tone. "You may find me to be more bitter than you expect."

"I'm willing to suffer the bitter in order to savor the sweet," Jarod replied.

Parker laughed, a carefree delighted sound. "Oh my! You are laying it on thick aren't you, Rat," she chuckled. "Is that your plan, Jarod? Are you trying to charm the pants off me?"

Jarod's grin faded as he gazed at her. "There is no plan, Miss Parker," he said with all seriousness. "No grand scheme. I've simply stopped trying to deny what fate has in store for us. I'm just going with the flow, letting life happen."

Parker's gray eyes softened and Jarod could see the hint of fear that wavered in their depths.

She swallowed hard then said softly, "Sounds serious."

"It could be," Jarod answered gently. "If you would permit it. Besides," he added, allowing his mischievous grin to reappear. "We already established that you weren't wearing pants." Jarod allowed one hand to drop, sliding over Parker's tush in an intimate caress. "See?" he whispered appreciatively.

Parker hid her grin in Jarod's shoulder. "It's the only way to avoid panty lines," she said in her own defense.

"Panty lines?" Jarod drooped his lower lip in a pout. "And here I thought it was for my benefit."

"Fashion is always my first priority," Parker explained.

Jarod snickered at her haughty tone. A disturbing thought suddenly occurred to him and Jarod had to pull back a bit to look into Parker's face. "Parker?" he asked warily. "Have you ever pursued me sans panty lines?"

The smile that curled Parker's lips was downright evil. "You mean, have I ever chased you down a dark alley," she asked. "In hot pursuit of fleeing pretender, without my underwear?"

Jarod nodded.

"Maybe," Parker replied with a small shrug.

All the air whooshed out of Jarod's lungs in one strangled gasp. His mind flashed desperately through images of his past, searching his memory for every outfit he'd ever seen Parker wear.

"Are you okay?" Parker asked, batting her eyelashes innocently.

A little dazed, Jarod replied, "There is absolutely no blood getting to my brain at this moment. If I should pass out, make sure the paramedics get a complete medical history."

Parker's laugh was low and sultry. "You won't need an ambulance, Rat," she promised. "I'll resuscitate you."

"Oh God," Jarod moaned. "I am in way over my head, aren't I?"

"That's what happens when you play in the big leagues, Pez-boy," Parker scolded.

Jarod was still chuckling at her remark when someone tapped on his shoulder. "May we cut in?" a deep, amused voice asked.

Jarod turned to see his parents holding each other as they danced in much the same way as he and Parker. "You've already got a girl," Jarod growled playfully at his father. "Leave mine alone."

Parker made a rude noise and stepped away from Jarod. "In retaliation for that testosterone laden remark," she said. "I would love to dance with you, Major."

As the two men exchanged partners, the Major smiled. "Are you corrupting my son, Miss Parker?" he asked.

"The original boy scout?" she replied with a shake of her head. "More fiendish souls than I have tried. But he's hopelessly incorruptible."

"How unfortunate for you," the Major sighed. "And so very frustrating."

Parker grinned. "I see where Jarod gets that irritating charm of his."

"It's a cross we have to bear," the Major said with a shrug. "Because we are so dashing."

"Oh good grief," Parker exclaimed. She rolled her eyes dramatically and laughed as Jarod watched his father twirl away with her.

Margaret reached up and caressed her son's cheek, drawing his attention. "I'm a little relieved to see you behaving this way," she said as they began to dance.

"Relieved?"

She nodded. "I've had you back in my life for two years. In all that time, I've never seen you show this much interest in a girl. Oh, you've had a handful of casual dates and you've been extremely polite whenever Emily or I have arranged introductions for you. But you've always been so cautious, never getting too close."

Jarod shrugged. "My experience has never been with long term courtships. I never had the opportunity," he said. "My relationships with women either spark immediately or not at all. There is no middle ground."

With a frown his mother said, "For two people who dislike each other, you and Miss Parker seem to be exchanging plenty of sparks."

"I never said that we disliked each other," Jarod defended. "I said that we could bring out the worst in each other. But tonight, we are both playing nice."

Tilting her head inquisitively Margaret went on. "Is that what your doing; playing? Is this a game between you?"

"It's different now," Jarod shrugged. "The old rules have all changed. It isn't as dangerous as it once was."

"But it is still a game," she said. "The problem with games is that someone has to win."

Jarod frowned but remained silent.

"One of you will win," Margaret told him. "The other will lose. Just keep that in mind."

"Can't we both win?" Jarod asked hopefully.

His mother shook her head sadly. "Not if you are playing with each other, no. If things are more serious than that, if there's more to it than the sexual tête-à-tête I've seen tonight, only then is there a chance for happiness on both sides."

Jarod mulled over his mother's words for the rest of the evening. If Parker noticed a marked cooling in their banter, she didn't mention it. They continued to flirt, but on a more subtle level than they had been.

It was nearly midnight before the party was over and Jarod walked Parker to her room. They stood in the hallway, staring at each other for an achingly long moment. The nearly uncontrollable lust Jarod had felt when Parker had first appeared on the stairs this afternoon had all but vanished. He still wanted her. He wanted her desperately. But his need was on a much deeper level than the physical simplicity of sex.

"I had a really good time, Jarod," Parker said gently.

"Me too," Jarod replied. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his pants to keep from fidgeting.

"If Lyle could see us now, he'd chew off his other thumb," she added in a wry voice.

The mention of Parker's twin brought a frown to Jarod's face. Simply uttering the name seemed to cast them back into their old roles, Parker the ice queen and Jarod the lab-rat. Jarod looked down at the floor, quickly finding his shiny shoes to be of great interest.

"I'm sorry," Parker sighed. "I don't know why I said that."

Jarod swallowed and looked up at her. He could feel the glass wall going back up between them but he was helpless to stop it. He abruptly wondered which of them was placing it there.

"Good night, Miss Parker," he said in a voice little more than a whisper.

Parker nodded slowly. Then, with agonizing slowness, she opened the door to her bedroom and stepped across the threshold. She turned to look at Jarod, her gray eyes filled with expectation. He said nothing.

After a full minute of silence, Parker sighed and said, "Good night, Jarod." Then she closed the door between them.

Jarod stood in the hall, staring at the blank door as he listened to his heartbeat thundering in his ears. After a time, he could tell that the light in Parker's room had gone out. Only then did he head for his own room, alone.

-

**End Part 6**


	7. Morning

**Disclaimer: **The Pretender and its characters don't belong to me. But since those who do own them won't use them I'll just borrow them for a while. I refuse to let Jarod and those he loves stagnate, to wither and die.

-

**Author's note: **Next time you watch the episode "Til Death do us Part", watch Jarod when he goes to Tommy's grave. He has flowers in one hand and an odd look on his face. At first, he won't even look at Parker. He admits that he was in her room and that he saw her drooling. I wonder what else he saw…

-

**The Door of Memory**

Part 7 – By Phenyx

12/01/04

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "  
**Susan B. Anthony**_

-

Jarod lay on top of his bed, staring at the ceiling through the darkness. He had changed out of his rented tuxedo and into a well-worn pair of jeans. After serious consideration, Jarod had decided against testing the effectiveness of a cold shower. He had no desire to wash away the scent that was clinging to his pores. Parker's perfume followed him everywhere as if she had somehow marked him with her own unique set of pheromones.

The thought of her, sleeping just down the hall, was slowly driving Jarod insane. He could picture her in his mind. The dark hair feathered across her pillow. The long lashes resting on white cheeks. He had seen her in slumber before; calling up the memory wasn't difficult.

He sighed heavily, remembering the relaxed, innocent look of her when in repose. Once, he had snuck into her room to remove the firing pin from her gun. As he slid the pistol from beneath her pillow, Miss Parker had shifted anxiously in her sleep. When she moved, the silky satin of the bed sheet drifted from her shoulder and Jarod had found himself staring at a single perfect mound of breast.

At the time, Jarod had been mortified to realize that he was ogling Parker when she was most vulnerable. He had bolted from the room as if the devil himself had caught Jarod in the act. The next morning when he had met Parker in the cemetery, Jarod's embarrassment had made it difficult to look her in the face at first.

Jarod had gotten over his discomfort by confessing, in part anyway. He had quickly admitted to being in Parker's room the night before. Her rage had been the incentive Jarod needed to put aside his shame. And yet, he had never told her about the revealing nature of her sleeping attire. He probably never would. It was a guilty secret he enjoyed far too much.

Jarod sighed again. These thoughts were maddening. Giving up on the pretense of sleep, he rose from the bed and left his room. Shirtless and barefoot, Jarod made his way through the dark house without a sound. He faltered for only a moment as he passed Parker's door.

The clock in the den began to chime the half hour. It was 3:30, less than an hour before Jarod would be rising anyway. In the kitchen, Jarod turned on the light and blinked while his eyes adjusted. Moving now on automatic pilot, Jarod went about making the day's first pot of coffee. Jarod measured the grounds then pressed the brewing button before pulling a mug from the cabinet.

For a minute or two he simply stood there, staring blankly at the brown liquid as it trickled into the carafe. With an impatient puff between his lips, Jarod looked around hoping to find something to capture his attention for the next few minutes. The kitchen still held signs of last night's party. There were some dishes in the sink that would need to be washed, but Jarod decided that it could wait until after he'd had a jolt of caffeine.

The wedding cake, or what was left of it, sat draped in cellophane on the counter. Jarod gazed at it for a long moment with the same bland interest he'd shown the percolating coffee. The almond flavored cake had been a three-tiered affair at one point, but only half of the largest circle remained. The pure white icing with its red and pink flowers was totally unmarred. It looked as if someone had taken a pair of scissors and expertly cut out half a picture from a magazine.

Jarod frowned. The pristine decorations bothered him for a reason he couldn't begin to fathom. On one side, the dessert was gone, vanished as though surgically excised from the whole. On the other, everything was perfect, perfect roses on a perfect white background.

Out of shear spite and rebelliousness, Jarod reached out with one hand, lifting the plastic wrap. Then he ran an index finger down the edge of the cake, scooping up looped swirls of icing as he went. As he popped the sugary topping into his mouth, Jarod smiled with satisfaction at the minor destruction he'd inflicted.

"I knew it," a voice chided from behind him.

Jarod nearly jumped out of his skin. Flinching like a child caught being naughty he whirled around in shock. Unconsciously, Jarod kept his hand behind his back, as if he could hide the telltale stickiness that still coated his finger.

"I knew that cake would be calling to you," Miss Parker said.

"Damn it, Parker," Jarod gasped. "Don't sneak up on me like that."

"Oh grow up," she snapped. "You do it all the time."

"I do not!"

"Please!" Parker replied. "You're grade-A stalker material. Sneaky is probably your middle name."

Jarod wasn't in the mood to start an argument with her so he decided to change the subject. "Having trouble sleeping?" he asked as he casually went to the sink. He quickly washed away any trace evidence of the cake's demise.

"Not really," Parker said gruffly. "In my time zone, the sun is already up." She sat down at the kitchen table and glanced longingly at the coffee pot. "But I will be feeling ten times better if you tell me that coffee is ready."

Jarod retrieved a second mug and wordlessly poured out two servings. He placed one in front of Parker before returning to his post against the counter. They remained that way, silently drinking their coffee, for several minutes.

"I would have let you stay the night in my room if you had asked," Parker said suddenly. Her voice was soft and without accusation.

Jarod gazed into his cup before answering. "I really wanted to ask."

"Why didn't you?"

"Good question," he replied with a heavy sigh. He shrugged. "I want more than one night, Parker."

Parker's gray eyes looked up at Jarod. The hardness he was accustomed to seeing there was gone. Instead their depths seemed to hold eternity. "My flight leaves this afternoon," she said.

"Stay," Jarod pleaded. The word dropped from his lips before he'd registered it as a thought.

"Not an option," Parker's tone turned sharp.

"Why?"

Thumping her cup against the table forcefully, Parker stood up. "Because I said so," she answered angrily. She ran one hand through her hair in a habitual gesture of defeat and sorrow. She walked away, turning back toward Jarod when she had reached the doorway. "The night won't be over for a couple of hours yet," she observed with a sly smile.

Jarod blinked in confusion. "You're giving me another shot?" he asked with surprise.

She shrugged one shoulder at him. "Why not?" she said. "It'll be fun."

Jarod's feet actually moved. He stepped forward, ready for a split second, to submit to anything she wanted to do to him. But then his brain fired again. He stopped and gave voice to the thoughts as they appeared. "Which is worse? Never understanding what is missing in your life? Or having it for a brief time, only to lose it again?"

Parker didn't answer. She didn't need to. They both knew. They had both lived it.

"You're a coward," Parker growled.

"I love you," Jarod said.

Parker shook her head sadly. "Don't say that." Her voice was hard and demanding, but Jarod could see dampness in her eyes.

"Why?"

"Because you don't mean it," she said as she looked away from him.

Jarod could feel his eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. "Don't tell me what I feel," he hissed. "You have no right to trivialize what is in my heart."

"You're right," Parker replied. "Your heart is none of my concern." With that, she turned on her heel and left.

Jarod fell into the nearest chair with a thud. He couldn't quite grasp what had just happened. He was flustered, confused and hurt, with no idea what he should do about it. He was still sitting there, deep in thought, when his sister came into the kitchen three hours later.

"Good morning," she called cheerily. "Did you leave any coffee?" When Jarod didn't answer, Emily frowned and sat at the table beside him. "Are you okay, big brother?"

"No, I don't think so," he answered slowly.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Jarod's dark eyes gazed into Emily's, so much like his own. "I'm in love with Miss Parker," he answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure," Jarod nodded.

Emily chewed thoughtfully at her lower lip for a moment. With a shake of her head she spoke. "You had better be damn sure, Jarod. The Parkers can be pretty cruel. I would hate to see you get hurt."

Jarod slammed his palms against the table hard enough to make the coffee cups jump. He stood up so fast that his chair tipped over and crashed to the floor. "Stop it!" he yelled. "I'm sick and tired of people telling me how concerned they are. This is hard enough without everyone harassing me about it! My falling for someone should not constitute an increased threat advisory!"

Emily stared at her brother in wide-eyed amazement. The look on her face zapped Jarod's anger as quickly as it had come. "Oh, Em," he gasped. "I'm so sorry, I have no cause for screaming at you like that."

"It's okay," she replied with a smile. "We all lose our tempers once in a while. It proves you're human."

Jarod stepped to Emily's side and hugged her tightly. "I'm still sorry," he whispered.

"You've got it for her bad, huh?" Emily asked.

Jarod sighed. "You have no idea."

"And you've got the whole Montague and Capulet thing going too," she said.

"Come now," he frowned. "Things aren't that tragic."

Emily giggled. "Well there is a bit of a feud going between us and the Parkers," she explained.

"I wouldn't call it a feud exactly," Jarod said with a grin. "Lyle and I are the only ones who duel at twenty paces."

"Uh-oh," Emily said pointedly. "If you're not careful, Lyle could end up as your brother-in-law."

"As Ethan's half-brother, Lyle and I are already related in a way." Jarod shrugged. "Besides, she's worth it."

Emily cast her brother a strange, wary glance. "If she means so much to you," Emily asked cautiously. "Why are you sitting here talking to me, while she's all alone upstairs?"

Jarod frowned. "She's leaving today."

"Make her stay," Emily said simply.

"She doesn't want to," Jarod sighed.

"You're going to let that stop you?" Emily shook her head. "I thought you were more tenacious than that Jarod."

Jarod cocked his head and stared thoughtfully at his sister.

"All is fair in love and war, dear brother," she whispered. "You do whatever is necessary to win your lady's heart."

"Win her heart," Jarod repeated in hushed awe.

With a shrug Emily added, "Assuming she still has one."

"She does," Jarod replied. "I can feel it beating within my own."

Patting the back of her brother's hand, Emily said, "Maybe your heart is big enough for the both of you."

-

End part 7

**Author's note: **Phenyx is dancing for joy! Everybody join in the celebration! The Pretender will soon be out on DVD in the U.S. Season one to be released March 15th 2005. Now if I could only find out where to preorder it…


	8. Flights

**Disclaimer: **The Pretender and its characters don't belong to me. But since those who do own them won't use them I'll just borrow them for a while as we wait for the DVD release. (March 15th, 2005 in the U.S.) : )

-

**Author's note: **Many thanks go out to Heidi for the spell check and to rev2004 who remembered something I had forgotten. Previous chapters have been adjusted accordingly. Sorry that this chapter has taken so long compared to earlier posts. I've spent the last couple of days with a neglected spouse. – Hope you find this worth the wait.

-

**The Door of Memory**

Part 8 – By Phenyx

12/02/04

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "  
**Susan B. Anthony**_

-

Jarod was beyond frustration. It was not an emotion he dealt with well. Never had been.

For the most part, Jarod had been a patient soul, even as a small child. But when confused, he had tended toward abrupt displays of frustration. Only a couple of years out of diapers, Jarod had already understood far more than any normal child. Yet there were still concepts he was unable to comprehend, human behaviors that his young brain could not process. He simply lacked the chemical and hormonal maturity to understand.

He had the mind of a genius, but the physical body was barely more than a toddler. This sometimes caused a disparity between knowing something was amiss and fully comprehending the issue at hand. Such situations caused Jarod a great deal of impotent frustration.

As a result, Jarod's first two years within the Centre had been particularly difficult ones. On more than one occasion, the bewildered, upset little boy had fled the sim-lab, running down corridors while tears blinded his eyes. Sydney had spent years training the child, molding him, forcing him to focus these bursts of tantrum into more productive coping mechanisms.

By the time Jarod was seven, his behavior had been radically altered. He no longer fidgeted when he became tense. He had stopped trying to escape the simulations. At the age when other children were learning to cope without naptime, Jarod was directing his anxiety into an eerie stillness. He could be perfectly motionless for hours, staring intently at a problem until the answers made themselves known.

Only one observable physical characteristic of Jarod's apprehension had remained. Remained in fact, even to this day. Whenever Jarod became frustrated or puzzled, his fingers drummed an unerringly steady beat on his thigh.

It was this anxious tapping that Jarod had started nearly an hour ago. It had continued throughout the journey to the airport. If any of Jarod's companions had noticed his uneasy fingertips, none of them had remarked upon it.

Miss Parker and Emily sat in the back seat, discussing salons and perfumes and other such feminine nonsense. Sydney watched from the front passenger seat, seemingly content to just listen to the two ladies talk. It was all perfectly amiable, casually pleasant and completely inane.

It was incredibly annoying.

Jarod wanted nothing more than to have a serious discussion with Miss Parker. But, each time he tried, she skillfully rebuffed him. Having his little sister and Sydney along as witnesses wasn't helping matters.

When they arrived at the terminal, Jarod was able to catch a moment alone with Miss Parker as he lifted her luggage from the trunk. "Don't do this, Parker," Jarod hissed. He leaned in close to her, so close that he could have kissed her if he'd tried. Parker turned away as she took the handle of the suitcase in Jarod's hand. He clasped her hand in his, refusing to release his grip. "Don't," he repeated.

"I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own bag," Parker said firmly.

"You know what I mean," Jarod pleaded.

Parker nodded but refused to look him in the eye. "Yes, I know," she whispered.

"I'm begging here," Jarod added softly.

"I have to go," Parker said.

"No, you don't."

Parker's hard glare rose to meet his. "I want to," she replied in an icy voice.

Jarod released the suitcase as if it had burned him. He stared at her in wounded silence. As the group made their way into the building, Jarod trailed behind them. After the bags had been checked, Jarod and Emily accompanied Sydney and Miss Parker to the corridor that led to the security checkpoint.

"I'll see you soon, Jarod," Sydney promised as he hugged the younger man goodbye. Without a ticket, Jarod wasn't permitted to walk his friends all the way to their boarding gate.

Parker's straight back and haughty demeanor screamed of detachment. Jarod could feel that glass wall between them again. She wouldn't permit him to enter her personal space.

"When will I see you again?" Jarod asked morosely.

Parker shrugged.

"You could come with Sydney during the holidays," Jarod offered.

"I could," Parker answered. Her tone was sarcastic and brittle, indicating that there was little chance of it happening.

"Why do you have to be like this?" Jarod bit as his anger boiled to the surface.

"This is who I am, Rat," she replied.

Jarod shook his head. "No. This is who you pretend to be."

Parker sighed sadly. "We've pretended for too long, Jarod. It seems that neither of us knows how to stop doing it."

"I've stopped," Jarod said.

"Sure you have." With that, Parker turned away.

Jarod watched her walk down the corridor never noticing the worried glance Sydney tossed him over one shoulder. Parker didn't look back. Long after she and Sydney had both disappeared from view, Jarod stood there, hoping against all hope that she would come back.

A soft touch on his arm finally reminded Jarod that he was not alone. Emily was at his side, gazing up at him with those big brown eyes of hers.

"I suppose we should head back to the house," Jarod said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

"That's it?" Emily asked. "You're just going to go home and act like nothing has happened?"

Jarod's eyes were hard and blank. It was the shuttered look he used to try and hide from the cameras at the Centre. He stared at his sister in silence.

"She's right, you know." Emily crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. "You are pretending. You're pretending to be the perfect son, the perfect brother. You want to act like everything is just peachy." Emily shook her head sadly. "Its not, Jarod. I know that. We all know it. I hear you tiptoeing around the house in the middle of the night. I've heard you having your nightmares."

Emily went on. "You think you can lock it all away, the same way you lock up that damned silver case of yours." She placed one hand on Jarod's arm. "I don't know why you feel the need to hide from us. But you do."

"I'm not hiding," Jarod denied.

"In the last two days," Emily said. "I have seen you more irritable and on edge than in the last two years combined. You've been rude, self-involved and bad-tempered."

"I'm sorry." Jarod heaved a sigh.

"Don't be," Emily smiled. "I found it rather refreshing to know my brother is a human being. I was getting a little weary of the saintly routine. Makes for high standards for a sibling to be compared to, Bro." Hugging Jarod around one arm, Emily placed her head on his shoulder. "Do you know what I think?" she asked gently.

Jarod shook his head.

"I think," she replied. "That having Miss Parker around brought all that selfish lust to the surface. All this time the real you has been buried under a thin layer of propriety."

"Oh Em, " Jarod groaned. "You have no idea." He swallowed hard and tried to explain three decades of his life in only a few words. "The things I have buried are dark terrifying things," he whispered. "Things I've been through, things I've done in order to survive." He looked away, blinking the moisture from his eyes.

Emily placed one hand on her brother's cheek, and turned his face toward her again. "She knows, doesn't she?" Emily asked. "That is why your pain is so much closer to the surface when she's around. She recognizes it and understands."

"It doesn't matter what she understands," Jarod said. "She's gone now. The game's over."

"This isn't a game, Jarod," Emily scolded. "This is your life."

A self-depreciating smile curved Jarod's lips. "My life is a game, has been for years. I'd run, she'd chase. Those were the rules."

"Change the rules," Emily urged. "You aren't running from her anymore. If anything, she's the one running away."

Jarod blinked at his little sister. For a long moment all he could do was gape at her. "I am an idiot," he finally said in a voice filled with shock. He grinned at his sister. "If she is going to run," Jarod began.

Emily smiled too as she picked up on her brother's train of thought. "You need to chase her."

"And it will be an incredibly easy thing to do," Jarod said. "Because I know exactly where she is going." He looked around frantically, trying to get his bearings so that he could find the ticket counters. "Come on," he commanded, dragging Emily with him.

"The next flight to Delaware isn't for seven hours," she observed as they got into the nearest line.

"I'll have enough time to drive back to the house and grab my things," Jarod said thoughtfully.

"I have a better idea," Emily suggested. "Once we get your ticket, let's find the nearest mall. We can buy whatever you'll need."

Jarod cocked his head at her in puzzlement.

Emily shrugged. "It will be easier than trying to explain to Mom that you're leaving. She can't stop you if you're already gone."

"She couldn't stop me anyway," Jarod said.

"Guilt is a powerful thing, Jarod." Emily smiled playfully at him. "In the hands of a real master, it can be a powerful weapon."

"Mom and Dad won't be pleased when they find out you encouraged this odd quest of mine," Jarod said ruefully.

"They won't be too upset when I tell them that you've gone searching for love." Emily shrugged. "Its terribly romantic," she added.

"I hope Parker thinks so," Jarod said with a frown. "I show up on her doorstep unannounced, she's just as likely to deck me as to let me in."

"She'll let you in," Emily replied in a confident tone.

"How can you be so sure?" Jarod asked.

"Don't you know anything, Jarod?" Emily smiled. "A woman doesn't dance the night away with your hands on her ass unless she's interested. Trust me, it won't take much to get back into her bed."

Jarod swallowed. "I've never been in her bed," he admitted.

"What?"

He shrugged. "We've never…"

Emily's dark eyes sparkled with humor. "No wonder she's mad at you."

-

End part 8


	9. Surrender

**Disclaimer: **The Pretender and its characters don't belong to me. But since those who do own them won't use them I'll just borrow them for a while as we wait for the DVD release. (March 15th, 2005 in the U.S. – Pre-order is available. See for details. )

-

**Author's notes: **Okay, this part gets a tad racy. I think it's still within PG-13 guidelines but please let me know if you think I should bump up the rating.

**The Door of Memory**

Part 9 – By Phenyx

12/05/04

-

By the time Jarod arrived in Blue Cove, it was quite late. Out of habit, he parked his rental car a couple of blocks away and walked the remaining distance to Parker's house. He didn't even realize he'd done it.

As he climbed the front steps to Parker's door, Jarod glanced at his watch. It was a few minutes past eleven o'clock. Only one light could be seen burning inside the house. Jarod knew from previous experience that the single lamp in the livingroom was always left on. The possibility existed that Parker wasn't home.

Jarod gave himself a mental shake. It was more likely that Parker had gone to bed. She'd crossed multiple times zones twice in the last few days. Even though Parker was a well-traveled woman, getting ready for the wedding had been rather hectic. The party itself had gone on for hours. The poor girl was probably exhausted by now.

Smiling mischievously at the thought that he may be waking her, Jarod reached out and pressed the doorbell. He waited for a full minute after hearing the muffled chimes from within. When no additional lights clicked on, he rang the bell again. Just as he was about to try for a third time, a slender shadow wavered across the livingroom curtains and Jarod knew that Parker was near.

"Open the door, Parker," Jarod called. He felt the hairs at the back of his neck tingle, indicating that he was being watched through the peephole. "Open up, or I swear I'll climb through a window."

The front door swung open to reveal Miss Parker. She leaned against the brass knob and eyed Jarod wryly. "You stay away from my windows or I'll call the police," she said.

"Nah," Jarod replied. "You won't do that. The paperwork would be too much of a hassle."

Parker's lips twitched in a half smile. "You're probably right."

Jarod shrugged. "I usually am," he said.

"Get in here you cocky son of a bitch," Parker groaned. She stepped back, allowing Jarod to enter.

After Parker closed and re-locked the door, she turned to stare at her visitor. Taking in her appearance, her silk robe and tussled hair, Jarod smiled. "Did I wake you?" he asked.

"Another five minutes and you would have," Parker answered. She sighed and ran one hand through her hair in an anxious motion. "Was there a point to this visit, Jarod? Or do you just get your kicks out of disturbing my sleep?"

Jarod stepped close. Unable to control his need to touch her, he gently reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I don't disrupt your slumber that often, do I?" he asked softly.

"All the time, Pez-head." Parker's voice dropped into a low, husky sound. "All the time."

Confusion whipped through Jarod's mind. This warm, soft bed-rumpled creature was not the same woman he had put on a plane several hours ago. Her body language and tone were inviting and seductive, not at all the stern ice queen from this afternoon.

"I don't understand," Jarod whispered plaintively. He ran his fingertips across Parker's shoulder and down one satin covered arm. She didn't pull away or glare at him. When his fingers retraced their path, she nuzzled her cheek against the back of Jarod's hand.

"What's to understand?" she purred. "You think too much, Jarod."

"I can't think at all anymore," he answered. Their bodies were only inches apart. The heady scent of her was nearly intoxicating. "My brain ceased to function the moment I saw you on the stairs in that dress," he added with a groan.

Parker laughed, a slow sexy sound. She leaned toward Jarod, so close that her robe whispered against the front of his leather jacket. "I've always felt that your brain was highly over-rated," she said. "It isn't the part of you that I'm really interested in anyway."

Jarod's eyelids fluttered shut and he sighed as Parker's hands slid into his coat and pushed it from his shoulders. The leather fell to the floor with a soft thud. His heart pounded so loudly he could hear it.

"Parker," he whispered. He opened his eyes and clasped Parker's roaming hands between his own. "Tell me what's happening. Do you care about me at all? Or is this all chemical? Is this anything more than sex to you?"

"Does it matter?" was the hushed reply.

"Yes!" Jarod squeezed her fingers hard. He was probably hurting her but she made no sign of it. "I can't be your plaything, Parker."

"I can't give you what you're looking for, Jarod," Parker said sadly. "It isn't in my nature." She slipped her hands away from his and pulled back. Though she withdrew only a few inches, Jarod could feel the chasm reforming between them.

"Parker," Jarod pleaded.

She shook her head in defeat. "It's very late. I'm going to bed," she said as she turned away from him. "Sleep wherever you like."

She left Jarod standing alone in the middle of the room. As he stood there, his body began to shake uncontrollably. Whether the trembling was caused by agony, lust or rage he didn't know. He didn't care. He just didn't want to feel like this anymore.

Frowning with determination, Jarod strode through the house. He entered Parker's bedroom without knocking and halted in his tracks. It was dark in the room. Only one small sliver of moonlight penetrated the heavy curtains covering the window. Jarod could just barely make out Parker's shape on the bed. He could tell that she was sitting up and looking at him.

"What do you want, Jarod?" Parker's voice sounded weary and sad.

"I want you," he practically growled. "Don't act as if you don't know it."

Her heavy sigh filtered across the room. "Nothing is stopping you," she told him. "You're the one trying to make a big deal of it."

"But it is a big deal," Jarod said. "It should be at any rate."

There was a long silence between them. "What are you afraid of?" Parker finally asked.

"I'm not afraid."

"Then why are you still standing way over there?" Parker's tone was lightly mocking. "When you could be here with me?"

"I don't want to screw an old friend," Jarod said bitterly. "I want to make love to someone I care about very much."

"Do whatever you like, Jarod," Parker replied. "I promise to be exceedingly cooperative."

Jarod moved forward, stopping when his legs hit the foot of the bed. "Do you have any feelings for me at all?" He was glad it was dark. She couldn't see the dampness on his cheeks. "Can you feel anything?"

"Oh yes," she whispered. Parker crawled across the bedspread toward him. Kneeling on the mattress before him, Parker grabbed fistfuls of Jarod's shirt in her hands. "Let me show you what I feel," she murmured against his lips.

Then Parker's soft mouth was pressed against his and Jarod was lost in the kiss. Any remnant of rational thought vanished. Jarod was reduced to nerve endings and impulses. He gathered Parker in his arms and crushed her to him as he savored the taste of her.

With a tortured groan, Jarod climbed onto the bed and eased Parker backward until she was lying beneath him. Her feelings for him, or lack there of, didn't matter anymore. Jarod felt that he had to be with her, take whatever she was willing to offer, or this need would surely kill him.

"Parker." Her name was like a prayer as Jarod buried his face in her hair.

"Hush," she gasped when Jarod's tongue found the hollow at the base of her throat. "Don't talk. Don't think," she begged. "Just be with me."

The night that followed was the most intense experience of Jarod's life. Parker offered herself again and again while Jarod selfishly took every bit she gave. His passion seemed unquenchable and Jarod sought pleasure with the woman at his side throughout the night.

As dawn crept over the horizon, Jarod roused Parker from a deep slumber. Rolling onto his back, he lifted Parker onto his lap so that he could look up at her. As they made love, Jarod tried to memorize every minute detail; her sleepy, satisfied smile, her tangled hair shimmering with early morning sunlight, the soft look of pleasure in her eyes.

Afterward, Jarod snuggled the soft body against his chest. Parker quickly fell back to sleep, despite her precarious perch. The warmth of her seemed to spread straight through Jarod and into his soul. Kissing the crown of her head, he spoke for the first time since Parker had shushed him last night. "I love you, Parker," he whispered. "I love you more than I ever dreamed was possible."

The next thing he knew, Jarod was alone in bed. He snapped into wakefulness with a start and realized with surprise that the light in the room had drastically changed. A quick glance at the clock told him it was well into the afternoon. He sat up, letting the tangled sheets pool around his waist.

"Parker?" Jarod called. She wasn't in the room and the cold space at Jarod's side told him she'd been gone for a while. "Parker?" He could hear a faint edge of panic in his voice, but didn't bother trying to hide it.

"I'm here," her soft voice answered. When Parker appeared at the bedroom door Jarod nearly gasped with relief. She was barefoot, wearing only a light blue cotton shirt and a pair of jeans. She leaned against the doorframe and smiled at him. "You plumb wore yourself out, poor baby."

Jarod grinned as a surge of happiness bolted through him. "Are you going to file a complaint?" he asked.

"Oh no," Parker said.

"In my own defense," Jarod added. "I was on my third day without sleep. You're not the only one having problems with that you know."

"I'm impressed," Parker drawled. "Imagine the performance we could get out of that engine if you'd been fully rested."

"The batteries are charged now," he replied with a suggestive smirk.

"Aren't you hungry?" Parker asked.

"Starved," Jarod growled. "Come here."

Parker's laughter turned into a squeal when Jarod hooked her by the belt loop as soon as she was within his reach. He tumbled her onto the bed and started kissing her.

"You, dear lady, are over dressed," Jarod observed.

"What do you plan to do about it, Rat?"

"I'll think of something," he promised. Parker's laughter rang like music as Jarod bit a button from her blouse and dramatically spit the piece of plastic across the room. He reverently kissed the bit of cleavage that had appeared during the loss of the button. With a contented sigh, Jarod murmured against Parker's flesh. "Let's stay here forever."

The soft body in Jarod's arms went very still. When Parker spoke, her voice was filled with a sad acceptance that sent a shiver of fear down Jarod's spine. "We don't have forever, Jarod. It doesn't exist for people like us."

Jarod lifted his head and frowned. "Don't say that."

Parker looked up at him tearfully as she ran one hand through the hair on the side of Jarod's head. "It's true. The Centre stole forever from us a long time ago."

Leaning in close, Jarod kissed Parker tenderly. "Then what is this?" he asked kissing her again. "I can taste my lifetime on your lips."

"It is only the past, Jarod," she whispered. "There is no future here."

"Don't do this to me, Parker," Jarod begged. "Please don't."

"Hush," Parker soothed. When she kissed Jarod back, he could taste salt on her lips. "Let's not talk about it. We'll enjoy the time we have together. Be it one day or one week, I want to treasure every moment with you."

"I won't leave you," Jarod vowed. "I'll never leave."

"Everybody leaves." Parker's voice was so forlorn and filled with misery that Jarod's heart wanted to break.

"Oh, Baby," Jarod groaned. He held Parker in a crushing embrace as if he could love her enough in one moment to erase the years of loneliness she had been forced to endure. "Just because we've never been happy, it doesn't mean we can't be someday."

"Make love to me, Jarod," Parker pleaded. "Right here, right now, in this moment, make me believe that you love me."

"I'll show you, Parker," Jarod murmured against her skin. "I'll show you exactly how much I love you. If you can't trust the words, believe in what I do."

"Shut up, Jarod," she said. "Just stop talking and show me."

-

End part 9


	10. The Homecoming

**Disclaimer: **The Pretender and its characters don't belong to me. But since those who do own them won't use them I'll just borrow them for a while as we wait for the DVD release. (March 15th, 2005 in the U.S. – Pre-order is available. See TVShowsonDVD for details. )

* * *

**The Door of Memory**

Part 10 – By Phenyx

12/10/04

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "  
**Susan B. Anthony**_

-

Jarod reached out and turned off the alarm clock five minutes before it would have done its duty. The leather of his jacket creaked as he folded his arms. Crouching on the floor this way wasn't comfortable, but Jarod didn't mind. His forearms rested on the edge of the mattress while his chin perched on top of his wrists.

He loved to watch her sleep. During the day, Parker worked so hard to keep her emotions in check. But at night, when consciousness slipped away, so did her control. The hard mask she presented to the world seemed to soften, allowing her vulnerability to surface. She dreamt troubled nightmares that frightened both her and her bedmate.

Parker's cries had startled Jarod awake twice in the week since he'd come to Delaware. The first time, she hadn't woken at all. Parker had thrashed about in the bed as if battling for her life. Tears had streamed down her face while she whimpered in fear. Jarod could only hold her close, stroking her hair, until her crying stopped. She had eased back into a restful slumber without realizing that anything had happened.

The next time, Parker's nightmare had been much different. Without warning, she had been sitting straight up in bed screaming. Jarod had reacted instinctively, bolting from the bed and into a defensive posture. The terrified screeching had only lasted for a few moments, yet it had been enough to scare the hell out of Jarod. His surge of adrenaline combined with her embarrassment had been enough to keep them both awake for the rest of the night.

Not that Jarod was the only one offering comfort in the darkness. He had never been able to sleep well, unless ill or sedated. The dreams he had suffered for as long as he could remember, continued. The difference was that now when he snapped into wakefulness, Parker was there. More often than not, Jarod would jerk himself awake only to snuggle against the warm softness beside him and drift off again. Other times, Jarod would wake and find Parker looking down at him through the dark.

"You okay?" she would ask.

Jarod would nod in response. At times like these, Parker would hold him, pressing her body close to his. Then they would make love as if the act itself was a talisman against bad dreams.

Jarod fought an urge to strip out of his clothes and crawl back into bed. Sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. Instead of submitting to temptation, he leaned forward and captured Parker's lips with his own. He kissed her awake with a soft yet demanding confidence.

"Good morning," Jarod murmured against Parker's mouth.

"Not yet," Parker said. "But I'm sure you could make it into one."

Jarod smiled. "As appealing as that offer is, my dear," he replied. "I've got to get going or I'll miss my flight."

The twinkle in Parker's eyes vanished. "You're leaving."

Clasping her face between his hands, Jarod said sternly "I will be back before you wake up tomorrow morning, I promise."

"You don't have to come back," she told him.

"Yes, I do."

"Jarod," Parker sighed. Throwing off the blankets, she rose from the bed and stood so that the piece of furniture between them. "I know it was your folks on the phone last night. I know how much they miss you."

"Parker," Jarod said. "I left a week ago without saying a word. Now I just want to go home and get my things, smooth things over with my mom. I'll be gone for less than a day."

Parker smiled sadly, her lower lip trembling as she did so. She hissed a deep breath and Jarod knew that she was achingly close to tears. He crossed the room and took her by the elbows.

"Parker." He gave her a tender squeeze. "I'm coming back."

She shook her head. "You called it 'home'," she whispered. "That place is your home. They are your family. I won't let you give up the things you've fought so long to find."

Jarod pulled her close. Tucking Parker's head beneath his chin, Jarod closed his eyes and again cursed the fate that had hurt this woman so much. "I'm not giving up anything," he said. "I never give up. It's the tenacity that got me this far."

"Stubborn, thickheaded fool," Parker groaned into his shirt.

"Perhaps so," Jarod chuckled. "But it means I'm not giving up on my family. And I'm not giving up on you." He pulled back so that he could look into her eyes. "Do you hear me? I won't give up."

"That's a lovely sentiment, Jarod." Parker stepped out of his arms and straightened. "But do you really think you can build a life in Delaware?"

"I can build a life anywhere. I have years of practice at it."

Parker grabbed her robe from a nearby chair, angrily pulling it onto her body. She tightened the belt around her waist and glared at Jarod. "You don't belong here," she snapped. "Sure you could fit in, use your pretender skills to blend into the environment. But you would hate it one day. You don't belong in my world, Jarod."

"Like hell," Jarod replied. "Your world and mine are the same place. Always has been. All those years, we each felt so alone and trapped. We were forced onto the path that our lives had taken with no control over where it took us. But we were always on the same path, not walking on the same side of the road perhaps, but it was the same road nonetheless."

"Jarod," Parker began.

"No," he cut her off. "Whether you choose to admit it or not, we were there for each other. And we survived because of it."

Parker turned, showing Jarod her back. Straightening to her full royal stature, she hissed, "Go home, lab rat. Go home."

"I will," Jarod nodded. "For one day. But I will be back in twenty-four hours. Because it doesn't matter where or what I call home, my heart lives here with you. A big part of me never left Delaware."

"I don't know how to believe you, Jarod."

"I know," Jarod answered gently. "You don't have to. Don't trust the words, Parker. Believe in the actions."

-

As Jarod rounded the last curve in the road, he eased the rented car to a stop. He opened the door and gazed down the hill at the farmhouse. It was a lovely view from this spot. In the past, Jarod had often stopped here to admire the first home he'd ever known.

It had startled him at first. The feeling of homecoming had been so foreign to Jarod that he had not recognized the warmth for what it was. Once he understood that peculiar lightness of his spirit, Jarod began to seek it out. This spot was the best for finding that welcoming sensation.

Propping his elbows on the roof of the car, Jarod smiled and waited for the emotion to strike. But it didn't come. What came instead was an image of Parker's face, her hard glare as cold as ice. With an odd sense of sentimentality, Jarod realized that he wasn't glad to be home. He was too worried about Parker, preoccupied with returning to her side.

It would have been easier on them both if Jarod had simply brought Miss Parker with him. Or better yet, he could have delayed the trip all together. But Jarod knew that would have been the coward's way out. Parker would never come to trust in their relationship if they never tried to test it. How could Parker learn that Jarod would always come back, if he never left to begin with?

Giving up on his musings, Jarod got in the car and drove down to the house. He parked in back and entered through the kitchen door. His mother was standing at the stove.

"Hello, Dear," she said. "You're just in time for lunch."

Jarod kissed her cheek and smiled. "I planned it that way," he replied. "Have I ever told you that you are the best cook in the world?"

Margaret laughed. "Every man is biased when it comes to his mother's culinary skills."

"I don't know about that," Jarod said. He picked a morsel from the pot and popped it into his mouth. "But homemade is better than a box in the microwave any day of the week."

"I take it that Miss Parker doesn't spend much time in the kitchen," the older woman drawled.

"God no," Jarod laughed. "She isn't exactly the cookie-baking type. I doubt the word domestic is even in her vocabulary."

Jarod's mother handed him a stack of plates from the cupboard. He understood the unspoken command and began to set the table.

"I thought you were looking for a more traditional home life Jarod," his mother said. "You know, two kids, two cars, a white picket fence and a dog."

Jarod shrugged. "I've never led a traditional life, Mom. I wouldn't know what one felt like. Besides," he continued. "I'd rather be unconventional and whole than be normal and incomplete."

Margaret dried her hands on a dishtowel before responding. "You know," she said slowly. "That sounds very similar to what your sister said about this."

"Really?" Jarod slid onto one of the wooden kitchen chairs.

Margaret nodded. "She said that with Miss Parker in our lives, we might have the chance to learn more about you. More than just the bits and pieces you tend to reveal."

Jarod stared at his mother with fearful eyes. "There are things you don't want to know, Mom."

Crossing the room, Margaret placed one hand against her son's cheek. "There is nothing that could change the way I feel," she assured him.

Standing abruptly, Jarod spun away. His body language and hard glare were as stern and cold as a glacier. "People are dead because of me," he snapped. His voice held a sharp and cutting edge. "I can put a bullet between a man's eyes from a hundred yards with no trouble at all. And I have put that skill to use. Is that what you wanted to know, Mom?"

"You sound just like her," Margaret whispered. "You sound just as cold and bitter as Miss Parker."

Jarod scoffed. "Wonderful defense mechanism they taught us," he bit. "Go on the attack before someone else beats you to it."

"No one is trying to hurt you, Jarod," Margaret said.

"That's just it," Jarod replied. The anger vanished, leaving him deflated and sad. "No one has to hurt us, the pain is already there. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it and it just boils to the surface."

Wrapping her arms around her son, Margaret pulled Jarod into a warm hug. "Let us love you enough to ease the hurt, Honey. Let us make it better."

"Oh Mom," Jarod smiled tearfully. "You already have. I am far more secure in who I am today than I was two years ago. We can never erase the past, but I am learning to look toward the future. You and Dad have done that for me." Jarod paused for a moment then added, "I want to teach her what you've taught me. I want to love her enough to make it better."

"Does she make you happy?" Margaret asked.

Jarod took a deep breath. "When she cries, I feel like my heart is breaking," he admitted. "And she is sad so much of the time. But when she smiles," Jarod's eyes brightened at the thought. "It is a sight to behold. When she laughs, really laughs, I feel as though I've been given a precious gift, a gift no one else can appreciate the way I do."

"Promise me one thing," Margaret said, waggling her finger in Jarod's face. "You bring her here for the holidays."

"Yes ma'am," Jarod nodded.

"All the holidays, Buster."

"Yes ma'am," he repeated.

"That includes President's Day and Flag Day," Jarod's mother said with a smile.

Jarod laughed. "I reserve the right to spend Valentine's Day with the two of us in seclusion," he said. "But all the others are yours Mom."

"Even Secretary's Day?" Margaret asked with a playful poke to her son's ribs.

"Anything with a corresponding Hallmark card," Jarod vowed.

"Good," Margaret said. "Tell her she can bring her family along if you feel that will help."

"I don't think so," Jarod replied. "Lyle is the only family she has left. In all honesty, I'd rather stick a needle in my eye than have him within a hundred miles of this place. We don't exactly get along."

Jarod's mother cocked an eyebrow at him. "As I recall," she began. "You said the same thing about Miss Parker not so long ago."

"Trust me," Jarod cringed. "The relationship between Lyle and me is far less complicated than the one I have with his sister. Catch me in a really foul and sadistic mood someday and I might be persuaded to tell you about it."

"He can't he been all that bad," Margaret said.

"Yea," Jarod replied. "He can." His mother didn't know that Lyle had been responsible for the death of her other missing son. Jarod wasn't about to enlighten her to the fact either. His relationship with Parker was going to be difficult as it was. The identity of Kyle's killer would not help matters.

Jarod's mother conveniently changed the subject. "Call your father so that we can eat before this stew gets cold," she said.

"Mmm." Jarod licked his lips. "I adore your beef stew. You'll have to give me the recipe."

Margaret smiled. "I thought you said Miss Parker doesn't cook."

"She doesn't," he replied. "But I do."

"It won't be the same without a woman's touch," Jarod's mother teased.

"I'll fake it," Jarod grinned. "After all, the world's greatest chefs are men."

"Chauvinist."

"Realist," Jarod came back.

Margaret pointed a wooden spoon at her son. "I'm going to sic your sister on you for that crack, young man," she threatened.

"I'll go find Dad," Jarod said with a smile. He hurried out the back door in retreat.

-End Part 10


	11. The Centre

**Disclaimer: **The Pretender and its characters don't belong to me. But since those who do own them won't use them I'll just borrow them for a while as we wait for the DVD release. (March 15th, 2005 in the U.S. – Pre-order is available. See TVShowsonDVD for details. )

-

**The Door of Memory**

Part 11 – By Phenyx

12/12/04

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "  
**Susan B. Anthony**_

-

Jarod turned off the alarm clock five minutes before it would have done its duty. His leather jacket creaked as he moved.

"Twenty-four hours, exactly," he whispered to the prone figure on the bed. Sitting carefully on the edge of the mattress, Jarod leaned over and kissed Parker's forehead. She shifted in her sleep, giving Jarod better access to her lips. "Good morning," he murmured against her mouth as she woke.

"Hi," Parker responded.

"Did you miss me?" Jarod asked.

"If I say yes," Parker answered. "You'll never let me forget it."

Jarod grinned. "You're evading the question."

"Damn right."

"Well," Jarod said as he kissed her again. "I missed you." He slid his coat off his shoulders, dropping it carelessly to the floor. "I missed you terribly."

"It's your own fault," Parker chided him. "I'm not the one who sent you traipsing halfway across the country."

Jarod peeled off his shirt and kicked off his shoes before climbing onto the bed. He used the weight of his body to hold Parker's down while he nibbled on her lips some more.

"Jarod," Parker gasped as soon as she got the chance. "You'll make me late for work."

"So, be late." Jarod groaned against her neck.

"I can't," Parker told him. "I have an 8:30 meeting with Sydney about plans for the rehabilitation center."

Snaking his arms over the edge of the blankets, Jarod wormed his hands down Parker's sides. "Hmm," he said as his fingers found the hem of her nightgown. "Cancel. Tell him you had a hot date."

Jarod caressed the flesh of Parker's hips making her shiver in response. "I wouldn't call this a date, Jarod," she gasped. "You would never stoop to something so mundane."

"Hey," Jarod answered with a frown. "I've been on plenty of dates and no one has complained so far."

"Plenty?" Parker asked. "Define plenty. Would that be more than ten?" As Jarod gaped at her in wounded surprise, Parker laughed and rolled away from him. "I really need to get ready for work."

Parker disappeared into the bathroom. With an amused shake of his head, Jarod propped a pillow against the headboard and leaned against it. He sat there, staring mutely at the door while he waited. When Parker emerged sometime later, Jarod was still sitting on the bed, gazing thoughtfully into midair.

"Uh-oh," Parker mumbled. "That frown on your face is never a good sign, Pez-head."

Jarod shrugged. "You were right," he replied. "We've never even gone to the movies together."

"I was teasing, for crying out loud," Parker said. She sat on the edge of the bed and entertained Jarod for a few minutes by pulling on a pair of black silk stockings. "Popcorn and nachos isn't really my style anyway," she added. Slipping her shoes onto her feet, Parker stood and did a quick twirl in the middle of the room. "How do I look?" she asked.

"Stunning, as usual," Jarod said.

"Good. I have to go." Parker placed her palms on the mattress on either side on Jarod's legs. She leaned forward and gave him a lingering kiss. "I did miss you, Rat."

Jarod grinned with delight. He was still trying to find the words to express his joy when Parker straightened and quickly left the room. Crossing his arms behind his head, Jarod sighed in contentment.

-

Jarod was having a good day. His mood, buoyed by Parker's parting confession, had yet to diminish. As a result, Jarod was running on an endorphin high. It was a rush better than anything chemically induced and Jarod allowed it free rein. He had showered and shaved, following his morning toilette by scrubbing the bathroom. Then he'd cleaned the house from top to bottom, washed and waxed Parker's second car and raked the leaves in the yard.

And it wasn't noon yet.

Jarod's happiness was bordering on euphoria, near giddiness. The fact that he'd ingested large quantities of sugar in a variety of forms, only served to increase his hyperactivity. Having run out of chores to do, Jarod started to get bored. He did his best to occupy himself. He spent thirty minutes fiddling with a leaky faucet and another thirty working on his laptop. But in the end, Jarod still found himself impatiently pacing around the house. Parker wouldn't return for at least five more hours, and Jarod really didn't want to wait.

There was one fact that Jarod knew better than anyone else. A bored and restless pretender never amounted to any good. At the moment, Jarod was very bored and extremely restless. So, he did the only thing he could do under the circumstances, he began to think of ways to cause mischief.

It didn't take him long to come up with an idea. The entire plan was little more than an elaborate ruse for seeing Parker before the scheduled time. But it did serve multiple purposes. First, Jarod would get out of the house. Second, he'd see Parker. And third, he'd test some incursion and evasion tactics that hadn't been used for two years.

Breaking into the Centre held little danger for Jarod now. If caught, the worst that could happen would be Parker's disdain. She would never let him live down the humiliation. But an hour later, as Jarod snuck through dark corridors, he was as cautious as if Raines was still alive and hiding around every corner.

Jarod slipped through the doors of Parker's office without being seen. The hardest part of the exercise had been waiting for Parker's secretary to leave his desk so that Jarod could pass. As Jarod had waited in the shadows though, he had gathered some important information. Parker was in a meeting, leaving her office empty for the next half hour.

A bit surprised at how easy it had been to get here, Jarod plopped down in the leather chair that sat behind Parker's desk. He spun around, admiring the décor in the room as he pondered his next move. Jarod considered writing a cryptic message and leaving. The exasperating yet meaningless clue would be a playful reminder of the past he and Parker had once shared. But if Jarod did that, he'd miss out on one of his main reasons for coming. He wanted to see Miss Parker.

Discarding his first impulse, Jarod toyed with the idea of going through the large filing cabinet along one wall. He wondered how often Parker cleaned her files and whether or not she still had any notes from her pursuits of a certain pretender. But almost as quickly as the thought had surfaced, Jarod squelched it. He did not want to do anything that Parker might interpret as an invasion of privacy.

Sighing with boredom, Jarod allowed himself the temptation of opening just one drawer of Parker's desk. The long, slender middle drawer held an assortment of pens, paperclips and a half-used pad of legal paper. Slouching in the chair to get a better look, Jarod peered into the darker recesses of the drawer. He found an empty manila folder, a spare cell phone battery and a box of pencils.

Placing the unopened box on top of the desk, Jarod pushed the drawer closed. There was nothing unusual about the writing utensils. They were standard yellow number twos. Jarod glanced at the ceiling and broke into a mischievous grin. A moment later he was looking around the room for the tools he would need to complete his plan.

It took ten minutes for Jarod to sharpen all the pencils and line them up on the desk in front of him. Another three minutes passed while he found the best technique for his purpose. It wasn't like throwing darts. It instead required a flicking of the wrist that was more akin to flipping a coin.

With a satisfying sound, "Thwack!" the third pencil embedded itself into the acoustical tile above Jarod's head. The fourth was in the air to join its mates when the office doors opened. It wasn't Miss Parker who entered.

"What the hell?" Lyle growled from the doorway.

Jarod shot his old rival a beatific smile. "I saw this in a movie once," he explained. "It is really much harder than it looks." Another pencil struck, creating the design of a cross.

"What are you doing here?" Lyle asked.

"Waiting for Parker," Jarod replied honestly. He did not pause in his task.

Lyle looked as if he was about to fall over. "Waiting for…" he stammered. "Oh shit," he added, a look of astonishment crossing his face. "You're the new boyfriend."

Jarod's smile grew. He tossed another pencil before replying, "I guess so."

"Shit," Lyle hissed.

"I gather Parker hasn't said anything," Jarod observed.

"No," Lyle snapped. "She hasn't said anything. But she's been in an awfully good mood lately which means…" Lyle paused. His eyes closed as though he was in pain, as if the unthinkable had happened.

"Thwack!" Only four yellow shafts of wood remained on the desktop.

Lyle opened his eyes and glared at Jarod. "You're boffing my sister," he snarled.

"Every chance I get!" Jarod almost giggled, but he managed to contain his amusement, for the most part anyway.

Parker chose that moment to enter the room. Jarod sent the last three pencils flying in rapid succession, each one blurring through the air before the one in front of it could strike home.

"What are you doing here?" Parker asked him.

"That's what I'd like to know," Lyle ground out between clenched teeth.

Jarod smiled. With a shrug he said, "Adding to the ambiance?"

Parker followed Jarod's gaze with her eyes and saw the yellow figure eight design stuck in the ceiling tile. She frowned. "How old are you, nine?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm a bit older than that," Jarod drawled. "Otherwise you'd get arrested."

Lyle sputtered with indignation causing Jarod to laugh.

"You're enjoying yourself," Parker accused.

"Immensely," Jarod admitted.

With a long-suffering sigh, Parker crossed her arms and glared at the man sitting in her chair. "How did you get in here?"

Jarod shrugged again. Placing his elbows on the desk, he folded his hands and propped his chin on top of them. "It looks like you may have a few holes in your security," he replied innocently.

"Are you going to tell me how to fix them?" she asked.

"A good magician never reveals his secrets," Jarod answered with a smirk.

Stomping around the desk, Parker glared at Jarod. "Get out of my chair," she commanded.

"Yes Ma'am." Jarod rose. In a smooth motion, he shifted his weight and perched on the corner of the desk.

Parker took his place in the chair and asked. "What do you want, Pez-head?" By unspoken agreement, she and Jarod had both decided to ignore Lyle presence in the room.

"I came to ask you out," Jarod replied. "I was thinking dinner and a little dancing. You know, a date."

Steely eyes glared up at him skeptically.

"I'm serious, Parker," Jarod said. "A real date. I promise there will be no nachos involved."

"When?" Parker asked with a sigh.

"Tonight." Jarod jerked his thumb toward Lyle. "Ditch the stuttering simpleton and go out with me, Parker."

Jarod could see the smile that Parker was trying to hide. They were both having great fun at Lyle's expense. Reaching out, Parker pressed a button on the phone on her desk. A voice rose immediately from the speaker. "Yes, Miss Parker?"

"Brad," Parker said. "Get security in here to escort our visitor to the front gate."

Jarod shook his head in mock sadness. " Are you going to have them cart me away?" he teased.

"You were hoping for a goodbye kiss, I assume," Parker said.

"Actually." Jarod grinned wickedly as he caressed the desktop. "I was hoping for a quickie before the sweepers came."

"Oh god," Lyle moaned. He turned and fled from the room abandoning whatever reason he'd come in the first place.

As the door slammed on Lyle's retreating figure, Jarod collapsed into laughter.

"You are so bad," Parker scolded him.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Jarod asked between gasps for air. "Lord, but that was fun!"

Two large men that Jarod didn't recognize came into the office. He quickly sobered at their appearance. "Mr. Jarod needs to be shown the way out," Parker told them.

With a shrug, Jarod stood and went with the sweepers. When he had reached the door, Parker called to him. "Pick me up at the front entrance at seven o'clock, Jarod," she said. "If you're late there won't be any second chances."

Jarod smiled. "But Miss Parker, we've got nothing but second chances."

-

**End part 11**


	12. Discord

**Disclaimer: **See previous chapter.

**- Author's Note:** It's been more than a month since my last posting on this story. In that time we've enjoyed two major holidays. I suffered an inexplicable need to clean my house, including closets and basement. This was after the relatives were gone mind you. (If you knew me, you know how truly incongruous it was. I'm a lousy housekeeper.) I've celebrated the birthday of my firstborn child. It is a landmark year, nineteen, forcing even me to see him as an adult on occasion. I should probably stop giving him lunch money. I have spent the last two weeks lazily lurking not only in this fandom, but also in one other, reading some truly wonderful stuff in both. I have been self-indulgently reading other authors' work and neglecting my own stories in the process. For this, I apologize. For those of you who emailed me, even when I wasn't posting, thank you. You know who you are and yes, pestering me is sometimes required. At times I need a little push to snap me out of my lassitude. Anyway, here is the next installment. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

**The Door of Memory**

**Part 12 – By Phenyx**

01/16/05

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "  
**Susan B. Anthony**_

-

Jarod leaned his head back against the cushions and sighed. Light from the single bulb on the porch filtered through the window, casting odd, crooked shadows across the room. Through the darkness, he could just see the ceiling above his head. He studied it for a time, hoping to find some solace in the blank surface.

When he realized there were no answers forthcoming, Jarod shifted his attention. He gazed around the room, unsure of what he was supposed to do at this point. Sulking in the dark was doing him no good. The throw pillow he was hugging to his chest offered no security.

Security?

Jarod lifted the decorative square and stared at it in confusion. He suddenly felt lost, as if the ground had just shifted and he'd found himself falling. Any lingering trace of anger evaporated, replaced by bewilderment over recent events.

"_I don't understand," _Jarod thought to himself.

He tossed the pillow aside and stood up. Restlessness twitched along his limbs so that Jarod began to pace without noticing he was doing so. He had made two passes and was starting on a third when a frame on the mantel caught his eye.

With a wistful smile, Jarod picked up the image, caressing the glass with his fingertips. This was the newest addition to Parker's collection of photos, one of the few in existence that pictured the two of them together. Jarod's mother had captured the shot on Christmas Day, a little over one month ago.

In the picture, Jarod was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. In his lap he held a jumbled mass of wrapping and crepe paper. He was looking down at the half-opened gift with a look of excitement and wonder on his face. Jarod loved Christmas. He liked getting presents almost as much as he enjoyed giving them. That joy was evident in the snapshot his mother had taken.

But what truly made this photo special was the emotion that had been caught on Parker's face. Clad in jeans and a soft pink sweater, Parker was sitting at Jarod's side. Shoulder to shoulder with him, she had been leaning forward in order to see what was in the box. As the camera captured the moment, Parker had glanced up at Jarod. The look on her face contained a blend of indulgence and adoration. She was happy. She was in love. In this frozen instant of time, it was written on her as blatantly as if she'd tattooed it across her forehead.

Jarod swallowed hard. He held the picture to his chest, hugging it as he had the pillow a few moments ago. He realized he was trembling. Abruptly afraid that he might drop it, Jarod carefully placed the photograph back on the mantel with one shaking hand.

With nothing left to hold on to, Jarod wrapped his arms around himself as he battled with his emotions. Confusion morphed into fright. A vague unformed fear clawed at him until he was shivering uncontrollably.

"Bullshit," he hissed. The bravado of the word did nothing to alleviate the shakes. There was nothing formless about this. He knew exactly what he was afraid of. He was afraid that she would ask him to leave.

Jarod plopped down in one corner of the dark couch and rocked gently back and forth. His puzzlement twisted in on its self and slammed back into his chest like a physical blow. How could this happen? He loved Parker. He loved her more than he ever imagined was possible. She loved him. Jarod knew that and the picture proved it.

How could he care about her so much and still have said those things? How could she have loved him so passionately this morning and yet ripped into him with such vehemence tonight? They had railed at each other worse this evening than they ever had during the years she had chased after him. Now, in a cliché that Jarod did not find the least bit amusing, he'd been banished to the couch. The couch for Christ's sake!

It hurt. It hurt that Parker could so easily turn him out of her room. How much more effort would it take for her to turn him out of her life?

If it had been anyone else, Jarod would have seen tonight's argument as the signal to move on. He had in fact, ended past relationships over far less heated disagreements. Of course, Jarod would never have lost his temper with another woman. He had never allowed himself to get close enough emotionally for any other woman to affect him this way.

But Parker could. Parker had always known exactly how to push his buttons, even when they were kids. God knew Jarod could push her trigger whenever the whim struck him to do so. Perhaps that was why the fight had been so bitterly fierce; they each knew the other's most vulnerable areas. Angry words had struck targets with a precision that no weapon could ever match.

They had argued about The Centre. Once again that evil place was coming between them. With Valentine's Day just around the corner, Jarod had wanted to take Parker to Martha's Vineyard for a retreat but she had protested. Parker said she'd taken too many long weekends since they'd started their affair and couldn't afford another one so soon.

In retrospect, it was Parker's choice of words that had set off Jarod's temper. He didn't like being an "affair" in her eyes. It didn't feel like one to him. For Jarod, the four months that they had been together was record breaking. He was in this for the long haul, and had thought that she was too.

Then again, they didn't talk about the future. They didn't talk much about the past either for that matter. It wasn't that they didn't talk, because they did. Jarod and Miss Parker actually talked quite a lot. Parker was smart, well educated and had traveled extensively, making her an excellent conversationalist. She and Jarod talked about everything from political ethics to quantum theory. Yet Parker wasn't above discussing nonsense like which brand of ice cream was the best or why women could wear socks to bed but a man shouldn't.

And yet, as easy as it was to be with Parker, Jarod knew there were many topics that were simply taboo between them. Her father was one. Jarod's deep animosity for Mr. Parker made it difficult for him to speak a civil word about the man. Kyle was another. Neither Jarod nor Miss Parker could forget that her twin had killed his brother. Jarod sometimes felt that Parker might like to hear about his memories of her mother, but he could think of no way to discuss Catherine Parker without alluding to the fact that her death had been directly related to her desire to free Jarod from his prison.

Jarod sighed. The sound came out as more of a whimper. Slouching with resignation, Jarod glared through the darkness at the ceiling once more.

"I hate this," he said aloud. Jarod glanced around, half expecting a response from the shadows. He made a decision, frightening and risky, but once made, he knew it was the right thing to do. Girding up his courage, Jarod stood and strode across the room with determination.

Worst case, Parker would toss him out of the house. Jarod's steps faltered a bit at that thought. But the alternative was to sit out here in the dark, miserable and full of resentment. If he did that, if he let this seed of doubt fester, what he and Parker had built together thus far would eventually crumble into dust.

Stopping at the closed bedroom door, Jarod almost knocked, but didn't. "_It's my room too," _he thought peevishly. Turning the knob, he entered as silently as he could. It was darker in here than in the rest of the house. The heavy curtains over the windows were made for just that purpose. An eerie sense of déjà vu washed over Jarod, forcing him to take a deep breath to push it away.

"Parker?" he said. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," she answered.

Jarod stood there in the dark, rooted to the spot with uncertainty. He gazed toward the lump of shadow on the bed with no clue what he was going to say. His next words could be the most important he'd ever spoken. The rest of his life could be shaped by what happened in these few minutes, and yet he was standing there as mute and stupid as a tree stump.

"_Say something, idiot," _his mind growled at him.

"I don't want to sleep on the couch," is what came out of his mouth. Even to his own ears it sounded petulant and whiny.

Parker sighed heavily.

After a long silence, Jarod spoke again. "Please don't send me away," he said in a shaking voice. "I don't want to leave."

The shadow that was Parker sat up in bed. "Who said anything about leaving?" she asked with obvious surprise. "Jarod, it was only an argument."

Jarod took a step closer before replying. "It was an ugly one."

"True," Parker admitted.

Neither spoke for several minutes, until the silence between them was deafening and Jarod could no longer stand it. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," Jarod gasped. "Please Parker, tell me what I'm supposed to do."

"Jarod," Parker's voice sounded both sad and indulgent. "I'm not your first girlfriend. Am I?"

Jarod shook his head. Then, realizing that Parker may not have seen the motion in the gloom, he answered, "No. There have been others."

"So," Parker went on gently. "What did you do when you argued with them?"

Jarod looked down to stare at his feet. He could barely see them in the darkness.

"Shit," Parker bit suddenly. Jarod heard a soft thump, and recognized it as the sound of a small fist hitting a pillow. "I know what you did." Parker's voice was sharp. "You packed your stuff and hit the road. Didn't you?"

Jarod shrugged, not caring if Parker could distinguish the movement. "This," he began, "is the longest relationship I've ever had, romantically speaking."

Parker sighed again and Jarod could hear the weary sadness in her tone.

He kept talking. "There was a girl once. I was involved with her for two whole weeks." Jarod swallowed. "Granted, it wasn't two consecutive weeks but I think it still counts."

"Jarod," Parker's soft voice was like a caress. "Come here."

Jarod approached and stood at the side of the bed. Parker grabbed his fingertips in one hand and gently shook his arm.

"So what you're telling me," Parker said. "Is that you've never had a lover's quarrel."

"I guess not."

Parker patted the mattress at her side and Jarod sat. "Okay, let me explain how this works," she said. "Couples fight. It is a fundamental truth. And don't look for me to stroke your ego by asking if we are a couple. Let's just take that as a given. Agreed?"

"Okay," Jarod tried to keep the elation in his voice to a reasonable level.

"As a couple we are going to occasionally disagree," Parker continued. "Even fight at times. I know it's scary and I know it hurts but it is completely normal. When two people become involved, the closeness they share gives them each a great deal of leverage when angered. And if there was ever a man and a woman who knew how to hurt each other, it would be us."

"We can bring out the worst in each other," Jarod whispered.

"You can say that again." Parker's wry tone held no accusation but Jarod flinched just the same. In response, one soft palm cupped Jarod's cheek and turned him to face Parker. "Oh Jarod," she sighed sadly. "Sometimes that little boy is so very close to the surface, isn't he?"

Jarod swallowed. He was going to cry. He knew there was no stopping it, but he fought the tears anyway.

Parker's low voice was soothing and painful at the same time. "Four years old and lost. So lost and alone, unable to understand what has happened to his world."

Jarod lost the battle and began to sob. Parker pulled him into her arms and held him tight. Jarod clung to her like a drowning man to a life preserver. Parker ran her fingers through Jarod's hair, comforting him as she went on.

"You can't hide him from me, Jarod," she whispered. "You can't hide that little boy any more than I can hide the lonely girl in me. Those children lurk inside us, right next to the dark, dangerous monster that can so easily kill another being.

I'll tell you a secret," Parker said. "Yes, at times we do bring out the worst in each other. But it is only because we know it is there. No one else does. No one else ever will. That's why I'm beginning to believe this might work, Jarod." Parker's voice was now little more than a whisper.

She kissed Jarod's temple tenderly then continued. "There are so many old wounds, scars that have never properly healed. No one else can see them. No one else can tend those old hurts."

Parker leaned back, lying on the bed and taking Jarod with her. With his head cushioned against her breast, Jarod closed his eyes and gave in to the feeling of security. He allowed the fear and anxiety he'd been suffering to fade away.

When his sniffles had subsided Jarod asked, "Now what?"

He could feel Parker's soft chuckle. "Are you still angry with me?"

"No."

"Well then," she said. "The next part is easy. You apologize and we have make-up sex."

Jarod lifted his head to gaze at her skeptically. "_I _apologize?" he asked.

"Yup."

"As I recall, I wasn't the only one yelling," Jarod said.

"Maybe not," Parker replied with a smile. "But if you want to get laid, you will ask for forgiveness."

"That doesn't seem exactly fair."

"Tough." Parker shrugged. "It's the price you pay for getting seriously involved, Pez-head. I've got you by the you-know-what." To demonstrate her point, Parker grabbed Jarod by the piece of anatomy in question.

"Oh!" he gasped in surprise.

Parker rolled over, flipping Jarod onto his back. She sat up, straddling his thighs as she looked down at him. With her tangled hair and disheveled appearance, Jarod thought she was the most desirable thing he ever seen in his life.

Leaning forward, Parker kissed Jarod's lips. The kiss seemed full of love and promise. Parker's hand moved erotically over him for a moment before abruptly squeezing. Jarod groaned, not sure if it was pleasure or pain that tore the sound from him.

"Where's my apology?" she demanded.

Jarod laughed. He couldn't help it. God, but he loved this woman. "Oh mistress of my universe," he declared. "My royal highness, I beg thee. Forgive this wretched excuse of a man for being so unworthy of your presence."

"Hmm," Parker seemed to ponder for a moment before leaning in for another kiss. "Gotta love a man who knows his place."

With a dramatic growl Jarod rolled, pinning Parker to the mattress beneath him. Parker's laughter warmed his heart as Jarod began to nibble along the curve of her throat. After a long, languorous taste of her lips, Jarod leaned his forehead against Parker's and sighed.

"I am sorry, Miss Parker," he whispered with all seriousness.

"Me too," she answered.

"I don't ever want to fight with you again," Jarod vowed.

Parker kissed him. "Don't promise anything yet, Rat. You may change your mind when you find out how much fun making up can be."

"It will take a lot to make me forget the misery of the last couple of hours," Jarod said.

A sly smile spread across Parker's face. "Hold that thought, love. We'll discuss it in the morning."

-

**End part 12.**


	13. A hotel room

**Disclaimer: **The Pretender and its characters don't belong to me. But since those who do own them won't use them I'll just borrow them for a while as we wait for the DVD release. (March 15th, 2005 in the U.S. – Pre-order is available. See TVShowsonDVD for details. )

* * *

**The Door of Memory**

**Part 13 – By Phenyx**

01/22/05

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "  
**Susan B. Anthony**_

-

"Oomphf!" Jarod flopped onto his back. Breathless and sweating, he kicked lazily at the sheets in an attempt to disentangle his legs. With a contented grin on his face, he turned to his bedmate and said, "I told you Vegas would be fun."

Parker laughed. After panting a few times she replied, "There is a lot to be said for post-coital bliss."

Jarod smiled. As he waited for his breathing to return to normal, he watched Parker. Her eyes were closed. There was a shimmer of perspiration across her skin that made Jarod want to taste her. Her hair was tangled tightly around the fingers of Jarod's left hand but he felt no inclination to free himself.

"Admit it," Jarod said. "This was a good idea."

"Sure," Parker drawled. Her respiration was slowing into a deep, relaxed rhythm. "Brilliant. Spend a week in the desert in the middle of August. It must be more than 100 degrees in the shade."

"The hotel is air conditioned," Jarod argued.

Steel blue-gray eyes opened and glanced at Jarod wryly. "And wherever did you find that Argyle character?"

"Technically, he found me."

"He is a truly bizarre little man," Parker said as her eyelids drifted shut again.

Jarod rolled onto his side so that his free hand could trace Parker's profile. "He's a friend," Jarod said.

"You have strange friends, Pez-head."

"The truth is," Jarod replied with a dramatic whisper. "I am a bit odd myself sometimes."

"No," Parker gasped. "Really? There's a news flash."

"Is that sarcasm?" Jarod smiled. "You know, it's rude to insult someone who just brought you bliss."

Parker's eyes snapped open in surprise. In a flash of motion, she grabbed the pillow beneath her and used it to smack Jarod in the head.

Jarod only half-heartedly tried to defend himself. "Hey!" he laughed.

"You cocky son-of-a-bitch," Parker growled.

Grabbing Parker around the middle, Jarod hauled her close. "I thought you liked me that way," he murmured suggestively.

A slow, sexy grin spread across Parker's face. "Mmm," she replied. "I do." She snuggled against Jarod's chest and sighed. For a long time they simply curled against each other. Jarod held Parker in a gentle embrace as he used his fingertips to swirl little designs on her shoulder.

In Jarod's opinion, these moments were the best part of his relationship with Parker. Granted, the sex between them was fantastic and he enthusiastically pursued it, but he enjoyed the aftermath even more than the act itself. Sometimes, like today, their physical intimacy was followed by playfulness. They would have pillow fights or wrestle. There would be laughter and Parker would smile a lot.

At other times, the two of them would talk. They would nestle together amidst a tangle of blankets, in the dark more often than not. Through the gloom Parker's voice would drift across Jarod like a warm breeze. It was on those nights that he could ask her the hard questions, ones he'd pondered for years. As the months had passed, Parker had even begun to answer. Thomas Gates had been the topic of one such conversation.

There had even been one night, a cool and rainy evening in April, when a desperately passionate encounter between Jarod and Miss Parker had ended in tears. That had been a difficult day. The thirteenth had always been rough for Parker. Though it hadn't been the first anniversary of her mother's death, it was the first with Jarod as her lover. He had approached the situation with concern, not completely sure what Parker would need from him.

After their visit to the cemetery and a dinner neither of them ate, Parker had thrown herself at Jarod. Despite the knowledge that it wasn't a good idea, he had submitted to her seduction for he had never learned to refuse her, probably never would. Afterward, she had burst into heart-wrenching sobs, causing mild panic on Jarod's part. He could do nothing more than hold her. Rocking her back and forth, he did his best to soothe her grief. Parker had wept for her decades-dead mother and Jarod had cried with her.

As hard as that evening had been, as painful and frightening, Jarod still kept the memory close to his heart. In his life, Jarod had so rarely seen the wounded, vulnerable side of Miss Parker. Although he hated to see her anguish, on that night Parker had revealed that she needed him. Being needed by the woman who made his world revolve had given Jarod a deep sense of completion.

"Parker?" Jarod murmured to the soft, warm creature in his arms. "You aren't going back to sleep are you?"

"Evidently not," was the grumbled response.

Gently sweeping Parker's hair away from her face Jarod said, "It's eleven o'clock in the morning. We should get out of bed."

"I'm on vacation, damn it." Parker's eyes opened to glare at her tormentor. "Besides, you seemed more than happy to spend the day in bed a few hours ago."

Jarod shrugged. "True. But now I'm hungry," he said. "It's your fault. I've worked up an appetite."

Parker exhaled a sound that was somewhere between a hiss and a snarl.

"Come on, Parker," Jarod cajoled her. "Let's get dressed and grab something to eat before we go back to the casino."

"Jarod," Parker sighed. "You win any more money at the blackjack tables and we're likely to get thrown out of this establishment. This is the best hotel in Las Vegas. I might like to stay here again sometime." Despite her irritated tone, Parker sat up and stretched.

"Not a problem," Jarod replied. "I promise to lose all my winnings at the Roulette wheel. Or, if you prefer, we could play Baccarat for a few hours."

Parker rolled her eyes. "I played Baccarat all day yesterday," she complained.

"And you were doing well," Jarod added. "You won enough to cover the cost of this trip."

"I think I should quit while I'm ahead," Parker said. "Besides, it has lost its appeal at this point. It's boring!" With a haughty toss of her hair, Parker stood and walked across the room to the lavatory.

Jarod took a moment to admire her bare tush before he responded. "But this is Vegas," he argued. "Gambling is the whole point."

"We've been here for four days," Parker grumped. "I'm tired of the casino. Let's do something else." She closed the bathroom door as she entered.

Jarod raised his voice a bit and kept talking. "We could visit Argyle and Mona again. Bennie would love to play you that song he wrote for Wayne Newton."

"Oh please!" Even muffled by the wooden door, Jarod could hear the contempt in Parker's voice. The door opened abruptly and Parker fixed Jarod with a hostile glare. "For future reference, Rat, if there is ever an accordion involved, I'm not interested."

"Just trying to broaden your horizons, Parker." Jarod snickered. "We could go to a show," he suggested. "I heard that the guy with the tigers is back on stage."

"Thanks but I have no desire to watch a man get eaten by his pets," Parker said.

Jarod put his hands behind his head and watched Parker as she sat down and began to brush her hair. "Well," he said. "You're narrowing our options quite a bit. Games of chance and overpriced entertainment is about all they've got in Vegas." Jarod grinned mischievously as a thought occurred to him. "Of course, if you're _**really**_ bored," he continued. "We could get married this afternoon."

The brush froze in midair. For a moment, Parker was as motionless as a statue. Jarod could see her reflection in the mirror and her eyes were wide with shock. Jarod simply smiled and waited for the fireworks to start.

Parker didn't react the way he'd expected her to. "What the hell," she finally answered with a shrug. "I've got nothing better to do today."

It was Jarod's turn to stare in astonishment. "Are you serious?" he stammered once he'd regained the capacity to speak.

"After a romantic proposal like that?" Parker purred. "What girl wouldn't be?"

"Parker." Jarod frowned. He leaned forward, his body tense. "Don't joke about this."

"Why not?" she asked airily. "You did."

"Well I'm not now," Jarod said. "Did you mean it?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."

"You'd marry me today?" Jarod was totally flabbergasted. "Right now?"

Parker glanced over her shoulder at the naked man in her bed. One delicate brow arched across her forehead. "Are you trying to talk me out of it, Rat?"

"No ma'am," Jarod replied.

Turning back to the mirror, Parker ran her fingers through her tussled locks. "I'll have to do my hair," she said. "Get dolled up a bit."

"Okay." As full realization of what was happening began to dawn on him, Jarod felt as though his grin would split him in two.

"I'll need an hour to get ready," Parker said. "Put together whatever you can arrange by then, Jarod."

"Yes ma'am," he nodded.

Parker tossed him a sweet smile as she disappeared into the bathroom once more. As soon as the latch clicked, Jarod scrambled off the bed. He took only a moment to glance at his watch as he struggled into some clothes.

"Damn," Jarod hissed to himself. "Hot damn!" He had sixty minutes. Only sixty minutes to put together a wedding. He hopped toward the front door on one foot while he tried to slip his other into a shoe. Thirty seconds later, he slammed into the corridor at a full run. With no patience to wait for the elevator, Jarod dashed for the stairwell.

Running faster than he'd ever run before, Jarod careened down ten flights of stairs. The only thing chasing him was the echo of his own joyous laughter.

-

End part13

**Author's Note: **Saw that one coming from a mile away - didn't you? Pretty predictable.I don't know about you, but I'm grinning like an idiot right now. The syrup is getting so thick I think we should have a pancake and waffle party. Unfortunately, or not (depending on whether you're enjoying this), there will be only one more chapter to this story. I hope you've found the tale worth the effort. For me, the ride has been a lot of fun.


	14. A Rose at Night

**Disclaimer: **See prior chapters.

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**Author's Notes:** Hold on _Maggy,_ you're about to get hit with another chronological leap forward. (Several months.) It is, admittedly, one of my faults as a writer. I do tend to skip large chunks of time, especially when I haven't posted to a story in a while. And yes, toward the end of a Phenyx story, things do tend to speed up, rushing toward a finale. I have no excuse. It is a direct result of my eagerness to move on to another project.

* * *

**The Door of Memory**

Part 14 – By Phenyx

01/29/05

"_Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory. "  
**Susan B. Anthony**_

-

An odd sound woke Jarod. He blinked in the darkness, listening carefully. He didn't move, but remained curled around the sleeping form of his wife. The house around Jarod sounded wrong to his ears. The night felt unfamiliar and strange.

Jarod felt a twinge of melancholy. There was a reason he felt out of place. This wasn't his room anymore. This wasn't his bed. Home was back in Blue Cove, Delaware, not here with his parents. Jarod and Parker had taken a late flight out of Dover, arriving at the farmhouse only a few hours ago.

There was a scraping noise that Jarod quickly identified as a branch rubbing against the window. The wind was blowing in frantic gusts and as Jarod watched, a flash of lightning brightened the sky. The rain had not started, but it would soon.

And yet, the restless branch had not woken Jarod. Nor had the faraway rumble of thunder. Something else had disturbed his slumber. When the soft sound repeated, Jarod sat up and cocked his head.

As awareness dawned on him, Jarod smiled. He turned toward Parker, tempted to rouse her so that she could share this moment with him. But Parker was so deeply asleep. She'd been working very hard over the last week, in preparation for their trip. Jarod had noticed how tired she'd been, how difficult it had been for her to get out of bed each morning.

Placing a tender kiss on his wife's temple, Jarod slipped out of bed. He moved across the floor as silently as a wraith and eased his way out of the room. He crept through the darkened house, following the snippets of sound that lured him.

As Jarod came down the stairs, the gentle tone steadied. At a distance it had seemed to come and go in waves. But in truth, it had been differences in pitch that had made the sound seem softer at times.

Jarod peered around the doorframe into the kitchen. Barefoot, wearing nothing but silk pajama pants, Jarod felt a shiver as goose bumps rose on his flesh. It wasn't fear or a chill that caused this reaction. It was one of those perfect moments, a perfect image imprinting itself on Jarod's mind. He smiled, savoring the sight, drawing out the moment for as long as it would last.

Only the light above the sink was burning, giving the room a dim glow. Sitting in a chair beside the table was Jarod's mother and in the crook of one arm she held a bundle of pink flannel. With her other hand, Margaret held a bottle, carefully tucked into the child's mouth. Rocking side to side in a soothing motion, Jarod's mother was singing to her grandchild.

One tiny foot flailed, kicking out in random. Jarod chuckled, causing his mother to look up at him.

"Did we wake you?" Margaret asked softly.

Jarod nodded as he stepped into the room and stood at his mother's side. "I'm glad." He looked down at the blond curls framing the baby's face. "She's so precious. The most beautiful baby I've ever seen." With a shrug he added, "Of course, being my only niece, I may be a bit biased on the topic."

Margaret smiled lovingly at the child. "Heather is so disappointed that her milk didn't come properly. She feels like she's failed somehow." Caressing the baby's cheek, Margaret continued. "But I love being able to share this closeness with my little Rose."

The two adults were quiet for several minutes. Margaret set the half-empty bottle on the table and gently burped the little girl on one shoulder. When she would have resumed the feeding, Margaret looked up at her firstborn and asked, "Would like to give it a try?"

Jarod flashed her a smile. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of your time with your granddaughter."

"Nonsense," Margaret chided. "I get to feed her every day. You'll only be here for a week."

Margaret changed places with Jarod and lifted the babe into his arms. As Jarod popped the bottle back into the small mouth, two wide blue eyes opened and looked up at him.

"Hi there, Rosie," Jarod whispered with awe. "Remember me? I'm your Uncle Jarod. We met this afternoon."

The infant answered with a rude slurping and another kick of her legs. Jarod laughed, mesmerized by the steady gaze of the child. "She seems so curious," he said to his mother.

"Yes," Margaret agreed. "She always wants to see what's going on." After a pause Margaret added. "You were even more so."

"I was?"

Margaret sighed indulgently. "As an infant, you just weren't happy unless you were in the middle of everything." She caressed her son's hair as she spoke. "You never wanted to sleep. You might miss something important."

"I'm sorry," Jarod said.

"Don't be," Margaret answered. "You were a special child. You still are," she added with a smile.

Jarod swallowed. "When did you know?" he asked quietly, his eyes glued to the baby. "When did you realize that I was… different from other children?"

Margaret's fingers continued their soothing strokes through Jarod's hair. "I knew you were special the moment you were born."

"All babies are special in their mothers' eyes," Jarod said. "When did you know that I was _different_?"

"When you were about three," she admitted. Margaret sighed again. "You had walked a little early, talked sooner than most. But we thought nothing of it. We'd had no previous experience with children. We knew you were a bright and inquisitive child. We just hadn't realized how bright."

"What happened when I was three?" Jarod asked.

"We were in the car one day," Margaret remembered. "You were in the back seat doing what preschoolers do."

"Which is?"

"You were asking questions," Margaret said. "Always. Drove your father and me up a wall with your nonstop questions. 'Why do dogs have four legs instead of two? Why is a school bus orange? Why are green beans good for you? Why, why, why?'

And you were never satisfied with a simple answer either." Margaret went on. "Your father had realized that he could stop the questions by answering in a way you couldn't possibly understand. You'd go all quiet and thoughtful when you were trying to make sense of something. Confusion troubled you."

"Still does," Jarod replied with a nod.

"As a result," Margaret continued. "When you asked about rainbows, your father bought you a prism and talked about the visible spectrum. When you asked why birds have feathers instead of fur, he told you about aerodynamics. When you asked about bubbles he explained surface tension. We thought that you just liked to hear your daddy's voice. We never dreamed that you understood any of it."

"But I did," Jarod whispered.

"That day in the car," Margaret said. "You asked what color the sky was in Florida. In your young mind, that was about as far from home as one could get. When we told you that the sky was blue even in Florida, you seemed very confused."

"Then what happened?"

"You asked us where the other colors go." Margaret shook her head at the memory. "You figured that if the blue is really scattered light from the sun, the other colors of the spectrum must be floating out there somewhere. I believe your exact words were, 'Light from the sun has all the spectrum, where does the rest go?'"

Margaret shrugged. "The theory may have been a bit off course, but the point is no three-year-old should have been making those kinds of hypotheses."

Jarod nodded.

"We had your I.Q. tested the following week," Margaret told him.

"And I scored well," Jarod said.

"You could say that," Margaret nodded. "Blew the top off the scale."

"And so it began," Jarod murmured. He looked down at the child in his arms and realized that she had fallen asleep. "All the heartache, all those lost years."

"It wasn't your fault," Margaret said. "No one blames you for any of it." Taking her son's chin in the palm of her hand, Margaret tilted Jarod's gaze to meet her own. "No one blames you," she repeated.

Jarod swallowed. "I know, Mom."

"Of course," Margaret continued with a mischievous gleam in her eye. "I'll never quite forgive you for eloping. A mother likes to see her children get married you know."

"Mom!" Jarod exclaimed. He kept his voice low so as not to wake the infant in his arms. "I've told you a hundred times how sorry I am about that. Everything happened so fast there wasn't time to fly you out."

"It looked awfully well put together to me." Margaret chided him.

"It's astounding what you can accomplish when you go to the hotel manager and say 'Money is no object.'" Jarod shook his head. "We had a very expensive cameraman with a live satellite feed. It may have been via long distance but you _were_ there."

"It just isn't the same watching it on a monitor." Margaret added, "She would have waited, you know."

"Maybe," Jarod said. "But I didn't want to give her the chance to change her mind."

"You underestimate her."

"Probably," Jarod replied. "Things between us have always been complicated. There's a lot of emotional baggage, insecurities that we both struggle to overcome."

"You're still bringing out the worst in each other?" Margaret asked.

Jarod thought about that for a moment. When he answered, it was slowly as if the words were forming even as he spoke them. "Yes. Yet somehow, the worst isn't as frightening as it once was. It is what made us strong. It's how we survived."

"Jarod," the firm tone in Margaret's voice made Jarod look up at her. "Are you happy with your life in Delaware?"

There was no hesitation. Jarod's smile was bright and honest. "Oh yes, Mother. Very."

Bending down, Margaret placed an affectionate kiss on her son's brow. "Then nothing else matters, does it?"

They sat in silence for a time, listening to the rain beat against the windows and admiring the newest addition to their family. Jarod eventually relinquished his hold on his little niece. He followed as his mother took the baby to the nursery and tucked her into her crib. After kissing his mother goodnight Jarod went to his room.

Silently lifting the blanket, Jarod slipped into bed beside his wife. As Parker snuggled against his chest she spoke in a sleepy voice. "Where were you?"

"Downstairs, talking to my mother," Jarod answered. "She let me feed the baby."

Parker opened her eyes. Jarod could see her gazing at him through the darkness. "You handle Rose like a pro," she observed.

Jarod grinned. "You sound surprised."

"I suppose I shouldn't be," Parker said. "But I've never seen you around a small child. I wasn't sure how well you'd deal with one."

"She's awfully cute," Jarod said. "Coping is much easier when they are cute."

"I'm sure." Parker agreed. Lightning flashed, brightening the room. In the moment of illumination, Jarod could see a loving smile on Parker's face.

"Do you suppose we could take her home with us?" Jarod asked playfully. He weaved his fingers through Parker's hair and absently began to massage the back of her head the way she liked.

"Hmm. Ethan might have something to say about that."

Jarod heaved a dramatic sigh. "I suppose you're right. But she really is adorable." He kissed Parker on the lips. "I want one," he murmured.

Parker's laughter was like music in the dark room.

"What?" Jarod growled playfully. "You think that's funny? Don't you think we could make babies as beautiful as Rose?"

Parker kissed him back. "Nothing could be as perfect as the life you and I create together," she whispered. When she kissed him again, it was a long lingering kiss that left Jarod breathless. "Your birthday," Parker murmured against his lips.

"What?"

"Your birthday," Parker grinned. "I'll give you one for your birthday."

Jarod hugged Parker close and laughed. "Parker, my birthday is in six months."

"Closer to seven," she corrected.

"Six, seven, it doesn't matter," Jarod said with a smile. "Biology dictates a nine month standard in this area."

"Very good, Genius," Parker said. "You are quite correct." She kissed Jarod's cheek and whispered into his ear. "I'm due on the tenth."

"One week before my birthday," Jarod said in dumbfounded wonder.

"My, but you are a smart boy." Parker snickered. "I can see the wheels turning in your head, Jarod. Don't hurt yourself. It really isn't that difficult to connect these dots."

"You're pregnant." Jarod's voice was little more than harsh whisper.

"Brilliant my ass," Parker giggled.

"You're pregnant?" Jarod sat up, his voice stronger this time. "How long have you known?" He asked. Without giving Parker the chance to respond, he answered his own question. "You had an appointment in Dover the day before yesterday. It was with a doctor wasn't it?" Jarod frowned and sprang from the bed. "You've known for two days and didn't tell me?"

"I wasn't sure what you'd think of the idea," Parker admitted. "We've never talked about it. And, well, I didn't exactly mention that I had stopped taking the contraceptives."

"What!"

Parker shrugged. "I wanted to do this for you while there was still time," she told him in a quivering voice. "And let's face it Jarod, you really tend to talk things to death before you finally act on a decision."

Emotions were rushing over Jarod in rapid succession. He felt as though he was on a tilt-a-whirl ride at a carnival. The world around him was spinning. In a valiant attempt to regain his senses, he focused on two words. "Still time?" he repeated. "What do you mean 'while there was still time'?"

"I'm not a young woman, Jarod." Parker replied. "The biological clock is ticking its last few ticks. Simply because of my age, this is considered a high-risk pregnancy."

Jarod felt his knees buckle. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, catching himself before he fell down. "God," he gasped. "We flew halfway across the country today. Should you have been traveling?"

"The doctor said it wasn't a problem," Parker reassured him.

"But what if," Jarod began.

Parker cut him off with a kiss. "I'm fine."

"You're pregnant," Jarod sighed.

"I'm fine."

Jarod blinked in the darkness. With both hands he took Parker's face and pulled her close, kissing her tenderly. "You're pregnant," he said again.

"You keep saying that," Parker noticed.

"Trying to internalize the fact," Jarod said. "It's a little hard to believe. You don't seem any different."

Parker smiled. "I feel different," she told him.

"You've been tired," Jarod noted.

"Exhausted," Parker agreed. "But I've had no nausea worth mentioning so I can't really complain."

Taking his wife in his arms Jarod eased her down onto the pillows. He lifted Parker's nightshirt and splayed one large hand across her abdomen. Caressing little circles on her flesh Jarod said, "Do you suppose it's a boy or a girl?"

"Too soon to tell," Parker answered. "Does it matter?"

Jarod smiled. "Not really. Hey, it could be both. One of each." At Parker's startled gasp Jarod laughed. "Don't blame me, twins run on your side of the family remember?"

"Oh lord," Parker groaned. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"This was a great idea." Jarod kissed her. "Best birthday present I could ever imagine."

With a shrug Parker said, "What else do you get for the guy who has everything?"

Laying his head over Parker's heart, Jarod snuggled down for the night. "I do have everything," he said softly. "Everything I've ever wanted, everything I ever dreamed of." He felt Parker's soft arms tighten around him.

"Same here," she whispered.

-

The end

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**Author's Notes: **There you have it. A happy ending as promised with plenty of sap to go around. I apologize for taking so long with these last few chapters. But we all know that real life tends to rise up and bite us in the butt once in a while. I want to thank you all for reading and I especially want to thank those of you who dropped me a note to tell me what you thought. 200+ reviews is a truly flattering number. Thank you.


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